The first time they met was Tuesday, February 29, 2013. Castiel could never forget anything about that day (the wind was howling in an awful snowstorm and the bar they were at was called the Clover) but, then again, it's not like he ever wanted to forget anything about his…connection to Dean.
The Clover was a dimly lit bar only a little a ways away from his apartment and too full of smoke for anyone to take a full breath, but the only place that was open this late during the biggest storm of the season. Castiel sat at the bar, a shot of vodka in his hands ad some old REO Speedwagon song playing on the radio when Dean sat down on the bar besides him.
Dean—well, he didn't know him as Dean yet; he was still a mysterious blonde at this point—was wearing a faded leather jacket that fit him perfectly with a couple of flannel shirts and t-shirts on underneath. His old blue jeans were well worn; holes left his knees exposed to the air, and were tucked lovingly into a pair of black combat boots. This was by far his favorite outfit on Dean, as it was just pure Dean, no fancy suits or hand made Italian ties.
He ordered two beers and a glass of whiskey and downed them in the time span of three minutes. He didn't speak (which was good for Castiel; smack talk just wasn't his thing), just ordered more beer and whiskey and tried to drown out what ever sorrows he had. They sat in companionable silence for the rest of the night, just kept on buying drinks for themselves—now that he thinks about it, that is how they talked; through alcohol.
Around four—in the morning, of course—when the wind had quieted down some and the snow wasn't coming down as thickly as before, Dean got up and offered to share a cab with him, since he didn't have enough money for one by himself (the first words exchanged between them). Castiel agreed, only marginally drunk but not sober enough to walk the few blocks hold in the snow, and they left the bar together.
They went their separate ways after that night, never expecting to see each other after that one drunken night.
The second time they met was Tuesday, March 7, 2013. At the Clover. Because of another snowstorm (this one less violent than the last one, but still quite horrible when you had to walk home through it) crash landed in New York at 7 at night and trapped them in the blacked out bar with the only the cold, the bartender, and a whole lot of alcohol to drink until the storm let up.
They laughed at the irony and began to talk after that (really, what else was there to do in a cold bar at night?). They sat close to each other, thighs pressed and arms brushing often to preserve heat in the godforsaken cold of the bar. Hours passed by as they talked in comfortably, but to them it was like minutes; the time flew by too fast for them.
The storm let up around 11 o'clock the next morning, long after Dean and Castiel had fallen asleep at the bar, and the power an hour and a half later, if the hung over bartender could tell time properly. They left around 2, sharing a cab (again) and promising to meet each other in the bar every Tuesday from now on, because if fate wanted them together (the storms conveniently stranding them at the same bar when they were both without a car? Twice?), who were they to deny fate?