January 22
The jingling of bells above a heavy glass door welcomed Castiel Novak into Brews Brothers on a crisp, Friday morning. He inhaled the thick aroma of coffee grounds and vanilla bean, savoring the warmth that soothed his wind bitten cheeks. Over the past few months, the small shop on the corner of 76th street had become a regular stop for him in the mornings. But he still hadn't gotten tired of the atmosphere. The limited space had proved cozy instead of cramped, the dim lighting and close-seated tables giving it a homey feel. He closed the gap between him and the counter quickly, anxious for his morning cup, and was met by a young, sprightly barista.
"You're three minutes late this morning, Mr. Novak," the boy remarked playfully. Castiel glanced at the clock above the menu. 8:48.
"Good morning to you too, Damien," he replied, chuckling lightly.
"Large cappuccino, t-"
"Two shots espresso, one shot vanilla, and an oat and honey scone." Castiel raised an eyebrow as the barista finished his sentence and slid his pre-made order out from behind the counter. "Oh, don't look so surprised. You've come here every morning for the past five months." He laughed and shook his head, pulling out a few bills and holding them out.
"It's on the house," Damien said, a slight flush creeping across his pale cheeks. Castiel eyed him, taking a sip from his drink. The boy was the definition of cute, dark brown hair casually mussed up and large, pale blue eyes that took up just enough of his slender face, but that's exactly what he was. A boy. He couldn't be any older than nineteen.
"You're too much," he smirked, stuffing the bills into a tip jar and walking away before Damien could object. As he maneuvered towards his seat in the far corner of the shop, he knew that the barista was looking after him. Setting down his order at the small table for one, he unlatched his bag and pulled out his laptop, a parting gift from his brother Gabriel, and flipped it open, sliding into his seat. After a few clicks, his email was opened. Unread-22. Castiel grimaced. Work was the last thing he wanted to do, but, hey, it was Friday. It'd be over soon.
A half a cup of coffee, three-fourths of a honey scone, and nine emails later, the bells over the door jingled again. Castiel looked up from his work. There weren't usually many people in the coffee shop this time in the morning, especially not in the cold of January, and he knew all the regulars. His attention piqued as a young man stepped through the door, dark leather jacket turned up against the harsh, Chicago wind. Attractive male was not usually on the menu. He watched as the man stepped up to the counter, not bothering to turn down the collar of his coat.
"Large black coffee, please." His low, rough voice traveled through the room.
"Name?" The man glanced around slightly, probably noting the lack of customers waiting for their order. Castiel had noticed that for the first few weeks, too. No matter how few people were waiting for their coffee, Damien always insisted on asking the purchaser's name. The only time he didn't was when Castiel walked through the doors.
"Uh, Dean," the man responded quizzically. Damien scrawled on the cup quickly.
"Coming right up." As the customer turned to walk to the pickup section of the counter, Castiel caught a glimpse of his face. And, God damn, was he attractive. The collar of his jacket framed soft, sculpted cheekbones that were flushed with cold and sprinkled with freckles. Soft, pink lips curled into a small smirk, and light brown hair that stuck up wildly off his forehead. But, oh, his eyes. Green apple irises sparkled like gems under dark, wispy lashes and Castiel was immediately transfixed. Dean turned away after a moment, unaware of the onlooker, and he tried to return to his work. But it was hard. One quick glance confirmed Castiel's speculations. He had an amazing ass.
Taking a deep breath, he flicked his eyes back to his computer, attempting to keep his interest at bay. Leering at people while they're waiting for coffee was something he definitely knew not to do.
Dean, he repeated to himself in his mind. Suddenly, something clicked. The green eyes, the splay of freckles… Memories of a little boy in an over-sized leather jacket insisting he took half of his peanut butter sandwich in the Lincoln Elementary cafeteria flooded his mind. Dean Winchester.
Hesitantly, he shut his laptop, weighing the options. He should probably leave the man alone to enjoy his coffee, never running the risk of looking like an idiot if Dean didn't remember him. That was the safe option. On the other hand, he could walk over and sit down with an extremely attractive male from his past who had once defended him on the first grade playground. He sighed lightly and pushed his chair back, legs letting out a screech that echoed through the shop. Striding over to the small table where the man now sat, pushed up against the brick wall of the shop, he took a deep breath.
"Dean Winchester?" The man looked up, startled, and his green eyes nearly took Castiel's breath away. As the startled glance slowly melted into a frown, he realized he was staring. "Oh, uh, I'm Castiel Novak." He watched for any kind of recognition in his eyes, but got none.
Who is this guy? Dean thought to himself, slightly annoyed. He wasn't too bothered by the interruption, since the guy wasn't too hard on the eyes. He's fucking gorgeous, something whispered in the back of his mind, and he shook it off quickly. But no matter how attractive he was, the man's staring was making him a little uncomfortable.
"We, um, we were in Miss Mills first grade class together at Lincoln Elementary, I think." Castiel hesitated. "You punched a kid who pushed me off the playground and we ate lunch together for a few days after that." Dean's frown quickly turned into a more relaxed expression when he started to remember.
"You're the kid who wouldn't take off his mangled trench coat." Castiel bowed slightly, comically.
"In the flesh." The man's deep laugh tickled his ears and made him blush slightly. "May I?" Castiel motioned to the chair on the other side of the table.
"'Course!" He nodded and sat down quickly. "Well, man, how you been? I always wondered what happened to you."
"My parents moved us up to Omaha, actually."
"Hm." Dean crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "And then what?" Castiel raised his eyebrow and tilted his head.
"What do you mean?" The man across from him grinned crookedly.
"I mean what'd ya do after that? Figure the best way to catch up is to ask what happened between then and now. "
"Oh! Well high school, I guess, then I got an English degree at a community college, got a job, then-"
"What kind of job?" Castiel glanced up to see Dean peering down at him, genuinely interested.
"It's-It's kind of hard to explain…"
"Try." The twinkle in his eyes seemed to dare him to go in to detail.
"At first, I was a receptionist at a publishing company in Denver, and then one of the editors got a hold of some of my writing and liked it. Quite a bit actually. I started writing articles for their paper and it kind of expanded from there. Now I, well, I write travel books."
"You're kidding?" He interrupted, smirking.
"No, I'm not, actually," Castiel continued, shooting him a look. "I know it sounds boring, but I've always loved traveling. And writing, for that matter. The job lets me do both."
"So, a traveler, huh?" Dean gave him a once over and he suddenly became self-conscious of the rumpled t-shirt he'd thrown on under an old windbreaker he'd pulled out of the back of his closet. "I could see that." Instead of asking what that meant, he continued.
"This is going to sound cheesy, but I love seeing the things that God has created." Dean's eyebrow shot up.
"You pretty religious?" Castiel shook his head, laughing.
"No, not really. My family is, though, and that's really the only thing that stuck." He nodded, pleased with the answer.
"So is Chicago one of your 'exotic destinations'?" he asked, teasingly.
"I don't do exotic. Just national. And to answer your question, no, it's not. I moved here a couple of months ago, and I'm between jobs right now." He paused, checking for Dean's interest. It was definitely there.
"Why are you so interested in this?" he asked, sitting back in his chair and smiling slightly. "No one ever is." Dean leaned forward onto his elbows, smirking.
"You're pretty god damn interesting, Cas." Castiel's breath caught as another memory tickled the back of his mind.
"You called me Cas," he commented quietly. "You did that before, too." Dean fell back and smiled warmly.
"I guess I did." They held each other's gaze a few moments longer than necessary before Castiel broke away, clearing his throat.
"Well, anyways, I'm working on my own thing now. A book actually."
"About?"
"Uh, well, places around the country that aren't well-known and should be."
"America's secrets?" Castiel grinned.
"I guess you could call them that."
"Well, I'll be sure to pick myself up a copy. When's is comin' out?"
"Oh gosh, not for another few years at least. There's tons of research to be done," he gestured to his laptop a few tables away, "and then the travelling and finally writing it and getting it published."
"That sounds like a shit load 'a work."
"Yeah, it's a lot, but I am very excited." He smiled at the man across from him. "But enough about me. What did you do after Lincoln?" Dean's smile seemed to falter as the conversation was turned towards him.
"High school till junior year, then worked as a mechanic at my Uncle Bobby's shop and was a bus boy on the side."
"May I ask why?" Dean's eyes flick up to meet Castiel's. "I'm sorry, I know that's personal…"
"No, it's fine. My dad died when I was 16 and I dropped out to help my mom pay the bills an' put my little brother through school."
"Oh…" He glanced away, wishing he hadn't asked. "I'm sorry."
"Nah, it's fine. The only thing that son of a bitch was good for was teachin' me how to fix a car when he was anywhere near sober." Dean laughed lightly and Cas did too, just to fit the mood. "Anyway, I lived in Lawrence till a few months ago. Came here, got settled, landed a job, the works."
"Where do you work?"
"Now? A record store down on 67th street, but I wanna go into law enforcement someday."
"Police?" Dean shook his head, taking a drink of his coffee.
"Firefighter."
"So you're into risking your life for others?" Dean smirked at his question.
"I just like the idea of saving people, ya know? Getting away from the family business."
"Is that why you moved here? To get away from it?"
"Kinda. My brother, Sammy, is a lawyer-in-training at Stanford and flew the coop a while ago. I felt like it was my turn." Castiel nodded at him in understanding.
"Do you have any other siblings?"
"Nah, just me an' Sam. What about you?" Taking a breath, Castiel tried to keep his face composed. His family wasn't anywhere near a comfortable subject for him, but he didn't want to make that know.
"Six," he replied, as cheerfully as possible.
"Six?" Dean's eyebrows shot up in disbelief and Castiel nods. "Holy crap, those must be some interesting family dinners." Castiel almost flinched at his comment.
"Yeah…" Dean gazed down at the man, understanding his hesitation. It was obvious he's uncomfortable with the topic.
"We don't have to talk about them if you don't want. I know what it feels like to have some family issues." Castiel nodded and glanced up at him apologetically.
"Actually…" Dean eyed the clock over the counter. 9:35. "Shit," he mumbled. He looked back across the table to see the man watching him, confused.
"I'm really sorry but I gotta go. I was s'possed to be at work five minutes ago." Castiel's heart sunk.
"Oh, that's fine!" Dean smiled at him and got up, coffee in hand, reluctantly walking towards the door. After a few steps, he turned back around.
"Cas, do…" The words to ask him out were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. "Do you come here every day?" He nodded.
"Only on weekdays, though. Do you?" he asked, knowing fully well he didn't. Dean's eyes lit up and he smirked.
"I do now." Castiel repressed a grin as a flush crept across his cheeks.
"I'll see you Monday then?" Dean's smile grew wider.
"See ya Monday." When the jingling of bells told the shop that Dean Winchester had left the building, Castiel let the smile take over his face. What a morning! Getting up, he walked back to his table, quickly finishing his order and packing up his laptop. He zipped his coat up as far as it would go and stepped back out into the cold, not wanting to wait a whole weekend for Monday to come.
On Monday morning, at 8:45 on the dot, Castiel was back at the Brews Brothers counter.
"The usual?"
"Yeah, and a large black coffee." Damien raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but Castiel didn't see. He was too busy glancing around anxiously, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He slid a few bills across the counter and took his order, shooting a half-hearted smile to the barista, and walked to the table where he and Dean had sat the other day. Flipping open his laptop, he clicked on a few things, scrolling through pages, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help but to smile when he thought about the way Dean had taken such an interest in him. Besides Gabriel, no one else had really ever cared. Castiel sipped his coffee quietly, stomach too twisted to take in much, and watched the clock, looking over his shoulder every time the bell on the door jingled.
By 10:00, he had given up. Spirits crushed, he tossed the remnants of his order and the untouched black coffee into the trash.
Maybe he just forgot, he told himself, walking out of the building. People get busy. It happens. But those thoughts didn't make him feel any better.
By the following Friday, Dean still hadn't shown, and Castiel had stopped glancing at the door every time it opened. And after a few weeks, the meeting was at the
back of his mind.
A/N: I hope the first chapter was as intriguing as I wanted it to be! I am super excited about this fic. There's only going to be a few chapters, and those will be uploaded about once a week, hopefully more. And please review! This is my first AU story and I'd love to hear your guy's feedback!