It seemed as if the weather couldn't make up it's mind. Already the middle of October, but the weather seemed more akin to that of summer. That was Kansas weather,he just had to deal with it. By now he should have been used to it, as he's been living in Kansas for the majority of his life. The weather this morning had said it was going to be cool with a chance of rain, but looking up at the bright sun shining down it looked like the weatherman was wrong. Again.
He shook his head and climbed into the drivers seat of the black Impala, tossing his backpack into the backseat before impatiently shifting around in his seat and looking for someone else. Fucking hell, where is he? "Sammy! Get a move on it!" He yelled out the window as a he slammed on the horn. beep beep beeeeep beep. A voice called from inside the small apartment behind him, "I'm coming, Dean! Just hold on!" and then suddenly there he was running out from the apartment; an incredibly tall man with a surprisingly athletic body and an obscenely large amount of hair. Sam stumbled down the stairs haphazardly and ran around to the passenger side of the Impala and quickly climbed in, placing his own backpack on his lap. He lifted up his right wrist and glanced at his watch and sighed, "Dean! We have two hours before we even have to be there, what the hell?" Dean shrugged, "I like to be on time."
Dean turned the keys in the ignition and was met with the sudden sound of pop music playing on the radio. Disgusted, he quickly changed the station to 95.1 and turned to glare at Sam. "Did you take my car again without asking?" Sam looked back at him wide-eyed and shrugged sheepishly, and shook his head back and forth causing that long hair of his to wave back and forth. His hair really was too long. Dean shook his head and sighed – they do a lot of that, sighing – and pulled out into the street towards their destination.
A few minutes later, Dean pulled into the parking lot of a small coffee shop called, Higher Grounds. It was in Robin Plaza, which was known for being the more religious orientated plaza in Wichita. Dean liked it though, maybe not for the coffee but for other reasons. The atmosphere? Maybe. Sam still hadn't figured out the reason behind it but he hasn't stopped wondering. "I'll be back in a minute." Dean said to Sam as he turned to look at him, "don't touch the radio." and then he climbed out of the Impala and hurriedly walked into Higher Grounds. The bell on the door jingled as he walked through it and a young man at the counter turned around to greet him, "Welcome to Higher Grounds, how are you today?" His smile was endearing, genuine, and it warmed Dean to hear it so early in the morning. He weaved through the tables and chairs that were scattered through the small coffee shoppe before he stopped at the counter, placing his finger tips gingerly on the marble, tapping them back and forth as he tried to figure out what to say. What did he usually order again?
"That's all right if you'd like a few minutes to figure out what you'd like this morning. I'll just be over here sweeping." the man at the counter pointed over a corner, "Just give me a call when you're ready, sir." Once Dean nodded to his comment, he left from behind the counter and grabbed a broom and began sweeping. Those blue eyes always made Dean stutter and stumble, they were just too blue. He must have had the bluest eyes as a child. He cleared his throat and looked at the board placed above the counter. It was all handwritten in some chalk, with designs drawn here and there that were incredibly well done. The special today was a pumpkin spice latte. He's never tried that. In all honesty he hadn't tried a lot of drinks here. He was more of a black coffee man, who sometimes put a bit of cream or sugar in but generally didn't find sweet drinks enjoyable. "Ahhh, uhm..." He began to say to himself, man just get a fucking black coffee and leave, you look like a fool. He thought to himself.
At the sound of his muttering to himself, the man from behind the counter who was in his own world, humming and sweeping, turned to glance at Dean. Unsure if he was trying to call to him, or if he was just talking to himself. From the backside, Dean seemed lean, but with a stronger upper body than anything. Was that weird to think about? Perhaps, but he enjoyed the view. Dean had neatly trimmed hair, which he could appreciate, with just a small amount stubble, which he also enjoyed. Smiling, he turned back to the dirty floor and swept all of the dust into an old, mangled dustpan. He turned to Dean for a moment, "I just have to dump this into the trash in the back, I'll be just a moment, sir." Dean turned and acknowledged him with a quick smile and nod before looking back at the board with scrunched up eyebrows.
Returning from dumping the dustpan, he set it down in the closet and returned to his spot behind the counter and placed his hands together expecting to take Deans order. "Have you decided, sir?" Dean opened his mouth, ready to speak, and then shrugged and shook his head. "Ah, oh, sorry, I hope it doesn't seem like I'm rushing you. Generally, people know what they'd like before they come in, and... I have seen you here before." Deans face turned a soft red in a second. He felt like such an idiot, obviously he'd remember seeing him come in, because let's be honest, he came in whenever he knew he would be working. By now one would think he would know his name, but for some reason they don't issue the employees with name tags and Dean has never had the courage to ask. Maybe now was the time?
"Oh, no, you're not rushing me at all, man, but uh, I gotta be honest, I'm not really sure what I'm craving today, y'know?" He nodded. "What would you recommend, uh...?" Dean gestured his hand towards the blue eyed coffee clerk, hoping he would catch the drift and tell him his name. He obviously didn't catch the hint. "Have you tried the pumpkin spice latte before? It's our special this month, since it's October and pumpkins are commonly associated with this month. We also have chai tea lattes, a lot of customers enjoy those. What about..." he continued to ramble on about drinks, happily moving his hands around in the air as he spoke and for a moment he seemed like a child talking about his favourite toy or something. Dean stifled a chuckle, but not well enough because he suddenly stopped talking. "Sorry. I tend to ramble. What are you in the mood for?" and without even thinking Dean said, "Your name." which caught blue eyes off guard and for a moment he wasn't sure what Dean meant by that and his eyebrows scrunched up and he tilted his head to the side with lips parted just so as he tried to think of a reply. Nice one, Dean.
Dean quickly laughed off his awkward timing and explained, "No, no, well, yes, but I've just been wanting to know what you're name is, so next time I don't have to be like, 'hey, coffee guy!' y'know?" He shook his hands out in front of him, hopefully brushing off everything previously. Blue eyes went, "ah" and nodded, smiling once again after everything made sense again. "Castiel." Dean nodded, "Huh, that's a pretty exotic name. Are your parents foreigners or something?" Castiel laughed quietly, "No. They just seem to have a penchant for naming all of their children after angels of the Lord." Man, the way he said that seemed to give Dean chills right down to the core, as if somewhere in some alternate reality he met Castiel before except with a beginning not as quite as nice as this moment.
"Castiel, why don't you surprise me with something? I'll pay whatever for it, but uh, just make sure it's not too sweet, will ya?"
"Of course, but I never got your name, and you're in here quite often. I don't want to refer you as the awkward gentleman that asked for my name." Dean laughed.
"Call me Dean."
"It's nice to meet you, Dean."
"It's pretty nice to meetcha too, Castiel."
And then there he was, back turned to Dean as he readied a surprise drink for him, quietly humming to himself as he used the espresso press and pumped a single shot of sugary syrup into the cup. After a few moments the drink was ready and he placed it softly on the counter for Dean. Castiel shook his head no when Dean went to get his wallet out.
"It's on the house this morning, Dean. Thank you for making my morning." He gave a small smile, though his eyes were beaming with happiness.
"Sheesh, man, you don't gotta do that, what with all the trouble I gave you, really, here," Dean took out a five and held it out to Castiel, "Please take it, even if it's just as a tip." Castiel shook his head again.
"Just come see me again tomorrow morning." It wasn't a question, it was a command and Dean wasn't sure if he meant for it sound that way but he wasn't about to not follow it. He nodded, took his drink and turned to leave. As he left out the door he turned halfway and gave a wave and a smile to Castiel at the counter, who returned it. Dean climbed back into his Impala and smirked to himself as he thought about Castiel, the Coffee Shoppe Angel. Sam was fidgeting in his seat with the ultimate bitch face, "That took more than a minute, Dean. What, was there a hot girl in there? Did you bone her in the back or something?" His sass was on higher levels this morning. Dean just laughed and ruffled up Sam's hair before he shifted into reverse and left the parking lot.
The next morning, Dean woke up earlier than he usually did. Like, earlier than early. It wasn't on purpose though, he just couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about meeting with Castiel again and having a conversation about coffee and he just had to compliment him on the drink he made for him yesterday morning. He had to ask what it was, because it was absolutely perfect. The right amount of sweet, and the right amount of bitter from the espresso. It gave him shivers and chills the whole morning he was driving. Dean sat up in his bed with the book Good Omens and tried his hardest to just read one page but he couldn't – he just couldn't get himself to stop thinking about the Coffee Shoppe Angel. (He had decided that was his nickname for him now, maybe he'll call him that this morning, oh, how would he react to it?) With a strong hand, he threw the heavy blankets off of him and pulled on a sweater from the floor. It was insanely cold this morning, unlike yesterdays, to the point where he could almost see his breathe. "Jesus." He muttered as he rubbed his arms looking around for his sweatpants in the sea of clothes that were on his hardwood floors. "Oh, there you little devils are!" Dean snatched them up and quickly put them on his goosebump covered skin. It was so cold.
Walking out of his bedroom, rubbing his biceps for some kind of warmth, he glanced to see if Sam was awake and in the living room. Nope, not yet. He had the apartment to himself for a little. He looked towards the clock on the microwave. It read thirty minutes past four. Sheesh, he was up earlier than his usual early. Higher Grounds didn't open until six, so he had about an hour or two to kill before he had to bother with a shower. If he took one too early he'd be grungy and disgusting by the evening. He had to look fresh for all the ladies of course. And uh, Castiel too. Dean walked over to the fruit bowl on the microwave and gently squeezed one of the pears, before taking it out and taking a bite as he made his way over the couch. He plopped down with pear in hand and picked up his laptop from the far corner on the couch. Sam always kept his own laptop in his bedroom because he thought Dean would use it for porn or something stupid like that. Well, he would, but that doesn't matter.
Maybe Castiel had a profile on some social media? Curious, Dean opened up Facebook and typed in the name Castiel and hoped for something to come up. Nothing. Maybe he went by a diferent name? He typed Cas into the search bar and nothing came up again. Maybe he was one of those new-age folks who didn't believe in putting themselves onto social media sites. Something about brainwashing and thought control. Dean shrugged. He closed the laptop and looked around the room. There were five bookshelves total in the living room. Three on the wall in front of him, and two to the left of him. They were all full of books, both his and Sams. It was easy to tell whose were whose, as Sam tend to read more analytical and self-help books (even though he didn't need any, he just liked how it talked about real issues, y'know, in case he had to help anyone else solve these kind of issues) while Dean liked to read history books as well as some science fiction, like Neil Gaiman. Though, Sam also had a place in his heart for Neil Gaiman so maybe that was just something they shared. They were brothers after all. Which maybe needs to be explained. Why would brothers want to room together? Besides the fact that they're brothers of course, but it was for reasons deeper than that. Unfortunately, they've had a bad run of luck for the entirety of their lives. Their mother died in a house fire when Dean was five, and then their father died in a mechanic accident when Dean was twenty six, and then Sam's girlfriend died in a house fire when Sam was twenty three. All they had left in the world was each other, so Dean went out to California and picked Sam up from his college life and brought him back to Wichita, where they both attend college.
Dean glanced over at the microwave clock again. Five o'clock, sweet, only had an hour to go. He had wasted thirty minutes trying to get into the weirdest positions and poses he possibly could on the couch. First he was on his back with his legs against the back of the couch, and then he was leaning off the arms of the couch and so on and so forth. Entertaining himself mindlessly, he noticed his stomach rumbling. When did he suddenly get so hungry? Rolling off the couch and onto the floor, he picked himself up and took himself to the kitchen. With hands on hips he wondered what he was in the mood for. He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his cheek and let out a big sigh. "Hmm, hmm, hmm. Eggs? Nah." Dean shook his head and opened up the fridge with a frown. "Man, I really want pancakes..." maybe he could go to iHop? No, no, too early. Oh! "Hummus, huh. Sammy likes this stuff, maybe it's kinda good?"
He shrugged and tossed the container of hummus onto the counter and went hunting for chips to dip in it. "Would Doritos work?" Dean wondered aloud as he reached up for the family size of Doritos at the back of the cabinet. He nodded, "Yes, yes they will. Hahah, yeah." Suddenly giddy and excited, he ripped the top of the bag open and popped off the lid on the hummus and dug in. The first bite was met with little hesitation but also with an odd expression in relation to the taste. Eh, could be worse. He shoved the bag of Doritos under his arm and took the hummus with him in his other hand as he went over to his record player that was placed carefully on top of one of the bookshelves. Setting down the hummus, he opened the lid of the record player and glanced to see what record he had left in it, and happy with what he saw, he placed the needle onto it and waited for the sound to fill the room. He made sure it was quiet of course, he didn't want to wake Sammy.
As The Doors filled the silence of the living room, Dean did a sort of half dance around the room with his hummus and Doritos and tried to pass the time and tried his hardest not to think about Castiel and those big blue eyes of his. Man, those eyes. They were almost too much for him to handle. Same thing with the hummus, it was just too delicious for him. Dean really enjoyed his food.
Before he knew it, it was already six o'clock and he could hear Sammy's alarm clock going off. "Shit!" Dean tossed the chips and dip onto the counter and rushed off to his shower to quickly wash up. Afterward, he towel dried his hair and put on a black long sleeve before slipping on the sweater he was wearing previously. It looked good enough. Denim jeans were the only thing he ever wore, along with his grungy work boots. As if he wore any other kind of shoes. Checking on his appearance in the mirror, he was satisfied after a few minor touch ups, he left his bedroom and was met with a disgruntled Sam. "What's up, buddy?" Dean asked as he patted Sam on the shoulder. Sam grunted and replied with a nasally tone, "Sick, buddy. Go ahead and go without me. Takin' a sick day."
"You sure, man? Do you want me to stay home too?"
"No, I know you got that test today, you can't miss it, Dean."
"But what if you get a fever? I gotta take you to a doctor or something -"
"No, no, no, it's just a head cold, now get out of here. You're going to miss your date with the coffee shoppe girl." Oh right, yeah, Castiel.
"It's not that important..." Dean mumbled. It actually was important.
"No, I'm goin' back to bed. Good night, Dean."
Sam turned and went back to his bedroom, a loud thump echoed from his room moments later. Dean couldn't deny that he was excited that Sammy wasn't going to be waiting impatiently in the Impala for him this morning. Dean could go in and spend all the time in the world with Castiel without having Sam wonder what he's doing. Oh man, this was going to be so great, Dean knew, he was so ecstatic he could barely contain himself as he grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door.
Minutes later he was in the parking lot of Higher Grounds. There were a few other cars in the lot, and Dean began to wonder if it would be too busy this morning for him to have a conversation with Castiel. He hoped he'd be able to, he hoped to God and he doesn't do that often. Actually, more like never. Dean wasn't a religious person in the least.
He climbed out of his Impala and sauntered to the door and let himself in, the sound of the bell above the door a comfort now, he'd been coming here for so long. Castiel was behind the counter making another customer a drink that was waiting at the counter, looking at their cell phone and tapping their foot. Dean placed himself behind the young woman, who wasn't that bad looking actually, and ohh damn, look at that ass. Shit, did Castiel see him checking her out?
"Here you are, miss. Have a lovely day." She nodded shortly and walked out in a rush. There was a couple sitting at the far end of the store having their morning coffee and reading the paper, pointing things out to each other and giggling quietly. It was sweet. "Oh, Dean! Hello, how are you today?"
"Hey, Cas, I'm good, how are you?" The nickname just slipped out, on accident, of course. He had started to stumble on Castiel's name so, fuck it.
"Cas? I've never heard anyone call me that before, besides, ah, family."
"Shit, sorry man, do you want me to call you Castiel?"
"No, no, it's all right." Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say next.
"So, hey, man, what did you make me yesterday? It was pretty good." and then Castiel lit up again and his hands were placed together softly and he began to explain that it was a white pumpkin spice latte, he liked to make those for really sweet customers since it's not actually a recipe on the board, he just made it up on the spot one day, and, and...
"Oh! I apologize, I seem to be rambling again." As usual, Dean laughed it off. He enjoyed that part of Castiel. How he can go on and on for what seems like hours about something as mundane as coffee. At least, Dean thought it was mundane. Castiel would probably be offended if he actually said that out loud. "It's all right man, it was good. You did a good job." He smiled, and Castiel smiled and it was all just a bunch of smiling in the coffee shoppe that morning and the couple in the corner were still giggling between themselves and it seemed perfect.
"Hey, I gotta ask man, when do you get off?" The question seemed to take Castiel off guard.
"Noon. I generally work longer, I uh, manage the store," Whoa. "but yes, I get off at noon. Why do you ask?"
"We should hang out. Go do something. What do you like to do?" Dean didn't mean it as a date, of course not. Now, if Castiel viewed it as a date, Dean wasn't going to disagree. Castiel seemed to like the idea of hanging out with Dean, so it seemed like everything was going so far so good.
"I like books, and coffee if you can't tell," Castiel chuckled. "and ice skating! I also enjoy a good game of pool."
"Pool, huh? Well, we'll see how good you're at it. Betcha can't beat me!" Dean leaned forward over the counter just a smidge, just so he could be a little bit closer to Castiel, who didn't lean away nor did he move forward as well. He just stayed as still as a stone behind the counter. Gotta admit, the guy was good at standing.
"We will see this afternoon, won't we? So, I will meet you here this afternoon. Don't be late." Again with commands, God, it was kind of hot, how demanding he was, or rather how he didn't end all of his sentences with the sound of a question. He sounded as if he was certain he was always making the right choice, the right decision. Not a lot of people do that nowadays. Dean could appreciate it.
So it was settled. This afternoon he and Castiel had a date. Not a date-date, just a hang out date. Smiling happily, Dean leaned even farther across the counter and asked for another white pumpkin spice latte. A large this time. Castiel happily obliged and began to make it, both of them were quite excited to see how this afternoon was going to unfold.