Every day seemed to be ordinary to Castiel Novak since he moved to Chicago. He ground coffee beans and swept up the small café he worked in every night to stay on his feet, and every cent of his weekly paycheck went into the apartment he rented - directly above the café. It was never very busy; the visitors were mostly men in business coats stopping in for the free (not for himself) Wi-Fi, and a cup of the daily special or a bagel. They would sit a good distance away from one another, carrying on their own private business meetings. Sounds of tapping shoes and clicking keys echoed inside, and everyone would be sipping slowly at their skim mochas as soft music played in the background. He had to admit that it was really dull, but it was the consistency that he loved. No surprises, no conflict, just quiet, everyday people. Sure, his landlord was a jackass. His pay sucked, the heat didn't work in the apartment, and he was usually hungry. But it was a home for him, and that meant he belonged somewhere, which was what he needed.
Dean Winchester was looking for somewhere to belong as well. He never really belonged, not at home with his dad, not in college, not with his ex girlfriend, Lisa. That's what brought him into Ground from Grace's coffee shop on that Thursday afternoon. The place was basically empty, albeit a few older couples and some hoity-toity businessmen in full on douche apparel. He stepped up to the counter, his thumb pushing itself into the front pocket of his jeans.
"Can I speak with the manager?" He said to the back of a man who he assumed to be an employee. A scrawny looking boy with blue eyes and dark hair turned to him.
"Yeah, give me a moment." Dean was shocked by the gravelly voice blue eyes possessed. It seemed odd and out of place, yet it fit him, as did the deep bags under his tired eyes. The boys fingers beat out the rhythm of something much faster paced than whatever was playing in the background. Dean was too busy studying blue eyes to realize that a larger man with thinning hair had stepped out from the back.
"Yes?" He said, annoyed. Dean retracted a bit, trying to seem appropriate for a place so, err, calm. It was a bit out of his comfort zone. Maybe a lot out of it, but he needed a job, anything for the time being. "What do you need?" The manager's face seemed kind, but his voice was sharp, crisp, and angry. Dean's eyes searched for a nametag, but came back empty handed.
"I came in to ask about a job. I noticed the sign on the door a few days ago. I've tried calling, left a couple of voicemails." Dean tried to sound gentle, even though he knew that he was often mistaken for being, as his father put it, 'a cocky know-it-all' who really didn't know that much.
"I received no such thing." Dean swallowed the lump in his throat down and tried to look calm.
"That's why I came in today, Mister, uh..." Damn it. This was already falling flat. Dean was convinced he was making a fool of himself. Who was he kidding; he wasn't even going to get a job at this shitty café. The Laundromat even fucking kicked him out today for 'loitering'. He didn't know standing inside and out of the rain was a crime.
"Just call me Zachariah. Broom's over there. Get started." Dean stood there for a moment processing this, trying to think of something to say. "Any time now, princess."
"Oh, thank you sir, I-" Dean was cut off by blue eyes coming back in.
"Ey Cassie, looks like you got a promotion. Don't fuck this up." Blue eyes nodded silently at his boss and he moved quickly behind the counter. Dean already hated this Zachariah guy; he seemed like a real creep.
After 3 days of working at Ground from Grace, Dean still knew nothing about blue eyes. He knew his name was Castiel, that he'd been working here for about 3 months, and that he always stayed late (well, that's what he assumed, since when Dean leaves at 7 he's always still there.). However, after the three days of silence, Dean had enough.
"Hey, Castiel. Did I say that right? Cas-tea-elll?" He smiled as blue eyes looked up at him in surprise, like he wasn't used to being acknowledged by anyone.
"Yes, that is how you say my name. Not quite as much emphasis though. It is simply Castiel. Nothing special." Blue eyes muttered, and went back to packing everything up from the day of little-to-no douchebag businessmen. Dean frowned at his lack of enthusiasm.
"Not with a name like that, Castiel. That name sounds like the name of a king or some shit. You can't just sit here and tell me that it's nothing special." Dean pulled one of his grins. "Sounds pretty special to me." Dean winked, and went back to work.
Castiel continued sweeping up, but a slight smile crept it's way onto his face. He liked how Dean looked at him, like he was someone.