Jo opened the door to her mom's bar, not at all surprised to see Dean asleep at his post. She usually found him like this: body splayed out in some random place, like he had suddenly decided to pass out in the middle of cleaning. What she hadn't expected to find, however, were two other guys sleeping on the couches.
"Dean," she said, moving over to the counter and shaking him gently, "Dude, wake up."
"Nnnnn"
"Dean, it's five in the morning; you can go now."
He buried his head further into his arms and groaned some more.
"By the way, what're these guys doing here?"
This at least got some response. Dean lifted his head slowly and looked over at the couches with glazed eyes. "Don't know..." he said slowly, though Jo could tell that his gears were turning even as he said it. Then, he blinked, frowning. "I was supposed to wake them up..."
"What?" Jo asked, watching as Dean slowly rose from his stool and shuffled to the couches.
"Long story." He started shaking the dark-haired one. "Hey, man, wake up. You gotta get to work, like, now." Jo figured she might as well help and moved over to the short one to try and wake him as well. As soon as she got close enough, though, she recoiled in distaste. "Aw, man, this guy reeks!"
"He was drinking all night. He'll probably smell like that for a week." Dean had finally managed to haul his guy off the couch, though they were both still bleary-eyed and slightly leaning on each other for support. "I'll get some water." He began the trek to the sink, but the other man cut in.
"It's okay. I can carry him."
Jo frowned. "You sure? He looks kinda heavy."
But he already had his snoring friend's body on its feet, his hand guiding the floppy arm around his shoulders.
"I guess you've got it." Dean admitted. He fished his car keys out of his pocket. "Come on, let's get you guys to work." He led the way to the door, but halfway there, he realized that Trenchcoat wasn't following him. "Dude, what's up?"
"We don't have our car."
"That's why I'm driving you." Dean replied, holding up the keys and jingling them. Trenchcoat paused for a bit, then shrugged, following Dean out the door.
XXXX
Once they had all piled into the car, Shorty in back, Trenchcoat sitting shotgun, Dean turned on the car and began to pull out of the parking space. "Alright. Where d'you guys work?" he asked, pulling onto the road that led to the heart of the city.
"Novak Industries."
"No way! You're joking, right?"
Trenchcoat looked at him, confusion tugging at the corners of his expression. "No. Why would I be joking?"
"I dunno. I guess I just didn't take you guys for big drinkers, that's all."
The corners of his mouth were starting to turn downwards. "What gave you that impression?"
"Well, you guys are all related, right? Like, you can't get in unless you're family." He looked over to the shotgun seat and saw the man nod. "And the advertisements make it pretty clear the company has a huge religious background..." Again, he looked over for comfirmation. "And so I guess I kind of figured, since you're all pretty religious and you're all a family, none of you would drink that much." His face was flushing now, pretty sure that somewhere along the way he'd said something wrong. But, to his surprise, he heard laughing coming from his right.
"That's all very true. But Gabriel," he gestured to the man in the backseat, "Is a bit different, I guess. He doesn't always show the best judgement-which is why I was supervising him last night. I, myself, have never touched a drink."
Dean nodded, looking back at the road as the car fell awkwardly silent. It stayed that way until they pulled into Novak Corporation's spatious parking lot. The two men got out of the car, then looked at the still-dozing Gabriel in the backseat. "What do we do?" he asked, looking to Dean. Looking around, Dean found a lukewarm bottle of water, which he proceeded to pour onto Gabriel's face (careful not to get any of it on the leather seats). When that didn't work, Dean stood back, scratching the back of his head.
"We could carry him..." he suggested. "He looks light enough."
The man in the trenchcoat nodded, and together they hoisted Gabriel up between them and slowly made their way to the front doors.
"So," Dean grunted, shifitng the weight of his burden slightly, "Why is it so important that we get him to work? Can't he take a sick day or something? He's seeming pretty sick to me."
A shake of the head answered the question. "Usually, Gabriel likes to take his sick days all in one go. I believe he spent this year's on a trip to Las Vegas." He shook his head again, though this time it was in obvious disapproval.
Personally, Dean thought a week or so in Vegas was a perfectly good use of sick days, but he didn't mention it.
The duo made their way to the reception desk, Gabriel still a dead weight between them. "Good morning, Mr. Novak!" said the woman behind the desk brightly.
"Good morning, Anna." he replied, slightly nodding to her. He then turned to Dean. "I can take him from here. Thank you, Dean."
"Any time." He slid out from under Gabriel's arm and began walking towards the doors. Halfway there he stopped. "By the way," he called back, causing the other man's head to turn, "I never caught your name."
A small smile touched the brunette's lips. "My name is Castiel Novak. It was a pleasure meeting you, Dean."
(I think a plot might start forming soon. Sorry the intro is going so slow -.-;)