"Are you sure you don't have a fever or something?"
"Oh, shut up, Sam!" Dean pushed away his brother's hand from his forehead, and fastened his pace. He didn't have the energy to deal with that kind of bullshit right then.
"You really wanna go there?"
"I said shut up, Sam!" Dean was definitely not in the mood.
Sam had forced him to go to the doctor in the morning, when he hadn't been able to move his hand and it had turned a bit bluish during the night. Dean would've had just shrugged it off after putting some ice on it, but Sam had told him he would smash the Impala if he wouldn't go to see a doctor. And a smashed Impala was the last thing he needed in his life.
So now, Dean had his hand in a plastic cast. He wasn't able to drive, and he had to take a break from work. He dropped dead when he had realized it; he wouldn't be able to work with the cast. He would just have to sit at a shitty motel, reading books and watching the news, while Sam got to go out and hunt monsters. Sam didn't even like doing it, so why was he the one with the cast, and not Sam?
And now, Dean had decided to just give up and let himself enjoy the only good thing he was able to come up with at the moment: the damn Starbucks coffee. The cinnamon-whatever he had drank last night had been so good he simply had to get more.
Sam had, of course, turned on his stupid "teasing little brother" mode, and kept asking if Dean was sure he wanted to get coffee or did he just want to meet Castiel again. And, once again, if Dean would've been able, he would've punched the shit out of his brother. But he wasn't, so he just had to stick with telling Sam to shut his cake hole.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Sam asked with a wide smirk dancing on his lips as he parked the car a few meters away from the coffee shop.
"You really want me to shoot you, don't you?" Dean asked with a cold voice, keeping his face as straight as he could. Of course he wouldn't shoot his brother, but he sure as hell did feel like doing so from time to time.
"Wow," Sam laughed and held his hands up. "Let's just go get you some coffee, mister grumpy."
"I mean it, Sam," Dean told his brother with an eye roll as he got up from the car. He really wasn't in the mood; not in the mood for Sam and not in the mood for meeting Castiel, so he just praided in his mind for Castiel not to be at work.
The coffee shop was literally full of teenagers waiting for coffee, and Dean just knew his day was simply damned to go even worse from there. He had Sam chaffing him about Castiel, he had a coffee shop full of the one group of people he hated the most, and apparently, he also had Castiel working behind the counter.
"Hey, look, he's-"
"I know," Dean cut Sam off, throwing him an angry glare. "I have eyes."
"Well, so does he, and he's using them to stare at you."
"What?"
"He's staring at you, idiot."
"And you couldn't come up with any less idiotic way to tell me about it?" Dean watched Sam shrug with a laugh, before he turned his eyes to the blue eyed man making coffee behind the counter. Castiel was indeed staring at him, flashing him a quick smile before he had to turn back to the girls he was serving at the moment.
"You should say something," Sam smiled, giving Dean a gentle nudge.
"Like what?" Dean laughed. "Like, hey, I really hate the pick up lines you've been writing on my cups, could you please come up with something better?"
"What? No! Dean! Don't play dumb."
"But he has to come up with something better!" Dean exclaimed. "Nobody tries to hit on someone with you must have a nice personality!"
"Well, he tried, and I think he's really into you," Sam smiled warmly, which made Dean feel a little weird. "And I think his stupid technique is working on you."
"Well, it isn't." But Dean wasn't sure.
Was it working? It was odd and confusing, so he hadn't really given it much thought. He had felt like laughing at the man's face every time he had gotten a new pick up line on his cup. He had felt like skipping town just so he wouldn't have to see the man again.
But there was also this other side of him, which kinda wanted to know what the man would come up with next; how stupid would the next pick up line be. It was a side of him that wanted to talk about the man as Castiel, not just as their weird barista or him. It was a side of him that secretly wanted to get coffee from Starbucks just to see the bright, blue eyes again.
Dean shook his head. It definitely wasn't working on him.
"You really think I should say something?" He quietly asked his brother as they approached the counter.
"You should," Sam nodded. "Just to be friendly, you know."
"Yeah," Dean nodded too. "Just to be friendly."
After a little more waiting, it was finally their turn to order. Sam got his order done quickly, disappearing to the mass of teenagers right after, leaving Dean alone to the counter.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel smiled, and Dean couldn't help but smile back.
"Hi, Castiel."
"What can I get you?" Dean hadn't noticed before, but Castiel's voice was deep and rough, but somehow kinda soft at the same time.
"Uh, you remember the cinnamon-thing you made me yesterday?"
"Of course."
"I'd like another one," Dean smiled, feeling very dumb all of a sudden. It was stupid to order the same thing twice in a row.
"You fell in love with it, didn't you?" Castiel grinned, looking very pleased with himself. "I'll fix you one right away."
And once again, Dean watched Castiel make him coffee. It looked like everything the man did came from muscle memory, and all the man's movements just flowed, leaving Dean feel amazed. He had had no idea making coffee could look so.. beautiful.
"You're staring," Castiel's voice woke Dean up from his thoughts.
"Oh," he awkwardly vawed his hand. "I just, you have a nice shirt."
"My work uniform?" Castiel laughed, causing Dean's cheeks to turn bright red.
"Well, yeah," he mumbled slowly, trying to come up with something that would save the situation. "It suits you."
"Thank you," Castiel's smile was warm and kind, which made Dean relax a bit again. Maybe it didn't matter that he screwed up like that. "Here you go, Dean," the man said as he offered two coffee cups, and Dean was pretty sure this wouldn't be the last time he heard those words.
"Thanks, Castiel," Dean returned the smile. He took the coffee and turned in his heels, trying to locate Sam from the horde of teenagers. Soon enough he spotted his brother from outside, waving at him so he would notice him.
"So?" Sam asked the second Dean got out of the coffee shop. "What did you guys talk about?"
"What? Nothing," Dean furrowed and gave Sam his coffee. "I told him he has a nice shirt."
"And?"
"And nothing, Sam," Dean sighed, once again annoyed. "He thanked, gave me the coffees and I left."
"Don't be so sure," Sam said, a smirk creeping on his lips. "Look at your cup."
Dean raised a brow at his brother, but slowly turned his cup around, just to find another sentence written on it: "Did you know my shirt is made of boyfriend material?"
Dean slowly raised his eyes from the cup, and turned to look back inside the coffee shop. He quickly spotted Castiel, who was staring at him, and raised his cup a little in return when the man gave him a quick wave.
"Unbelievable," Sam laughed, shaking his head in amusement.
"Yeah," Dean smiled to himself. "He is."
