The next week, he woke up too late and mixed up his clothes so much, he had to go back home and change, as well as comb his hair. The stress created followed him all morning and by noon, he needed a break, a real one. He considered going to a park but those around his office were full of screaming toddlers. There were always museums, but somehow his feet had decided they knew where to go. He bought a hot-dog from a street vendor, feeling edgy and adventurous, then caught a cab and gave an address.
The Starbucks was mercifully not overcrowded. There were three barista, a smiling red-head girl on the left, a shy-looking dark-haired woman in the middle and Dean on the right. Castiel was tempted to go order from one of the female staff, they looked quite nice but he had to face it, the reason he was back here was glaring at him.
He walked to the back of the queue but as he got nearer Dean, he heard a female voice say:
"I'll take your order, sir!"
Resigned, he walked to the middle of the counter. In a way, it was a relief, Dean had acted like a jerk the other time and Castiel could still gaze at him from there. This was all what it was about, after all, aesthetic appreciation. He was starting to read the menu to find the right wording when he was interrupted. Dean had put his hand on the woman's shoulder:
"It's okay, Lisa, I got it. Can you go in the back find some cinnamon packets please?"
She smiled gently at him and excused herself. Castiel was gaping now, unable to proceed with his order. There was no mistaking the hostility in Dean's posture. Had he decided to bully Cas out of the shop? Just because of a mistake on the staff's behalf? Castiel wanted to feel angry and righteous, but his knees were on the verge of collapse and his brain was fixated on the freckles on Dean's face.
But Dean was inflexible:
"Could you not waste my time, there's a queue behind you?"
"I..."
"Or do you want me to recite the whole selection and you can raise your hand when it's the right one..." There were a few laughs. Castiel had been foolish to think he could stray out of his routine. He wanted to sass back, but he, who could hold his own against the rulers of the world, who had managed to tease a freaking sultan once, was out of his depths. Dean was very direct and borderline crude but he was also disarmingly charming, even when he was sarcastic.
Castiel closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. He was a feared businessman. He could do this. He got inspired and fished in his pocket to take out one of his business cards, then grabbed the marker laying next to Dean's hand, feeling their hands brush. He didn't let himself get too distracted.
He wrote in cursive, like he had as a child, as clearly as possible and signed his full name. He handed the card silently, raising his eyebrows and was pleased to see that Dean was fighting a smile.
One minute later, he was seated comfortably, drinking the correct drink and decided he actually liked the place. It was a pity it was so far from his home or work. On the other hand, his stress level had calmed down significantly. He would come back.
Castiel was shy when outside of his circle of friends, but he could be stubborn. He was going to change Dean's opinion of him, even if he had to spend more in taxi fare than on the coffee itself
It took a few weeks to get Dean to smile at him without reserve. Cas had made a coffee-related pun that he had rehearsed in the taxi and even managed to say it casually in front of a long queue and a gorgeous-looking barista. As he was about to pay, Dean put his hand on his wallet and said:
"On the house. Thanks for the laugh, I needed it."
Cas walked on air the whole week after that. Balthazar came to dinner and asked him if he got laid. Castiel refused to answer with a smug smile. He regretted it when his cousin started telling Castiel's mother about his suspicions. Fortunately, he had ammunitions and Balthy knew it from a single glance. The conversation was swiftly diverted to fashion and gossip, so Castiel could get bored in peace.
Slowly, there was a change in the way Dean was dealing with him, so Castiel started to open up a little more, talking about the weather, or a something funny he had witnessed on his way to the shop. He never needed to say his order now, Dean never made a mistake and made jokes about his lame taste.
He always made sure he was the one serving Cas, who was disciplining himself into not reading anything in it. Sometimes their eyes met and stayed stuck for a while, at least until someone coughed or addressed Dean.