They go down to a little café walking distance from the coffee shop that Dean's been to a few times that he always used to say had the best pie (he can't in good conscious say that anymore). They seat themselves and order, a chicken salad and orange juice for Cas, a Ruben and coke for Dean. Cas slumps in his chair as though he wants to become a part of it, and looks around at the quaint place full of light colors like it's an enigma.

"I've passed by this place so many time," he says, still looking around, "but never once thought of coming inside."

"Yeah?" Dean says, because he doesn't know what to say to a statement like that, luckily, Cas feels like elaborating.

"It just never crossed my mind," Cas shrugs awkwardly, "I'd see people enjoying themselves here and think 'that looks nice' and continue on my way to work. The only reason I stopped at your shop at all was because a colleague asked me to get them coffee there. Then I just kept coming back.

"I guess I don't have much initiative. I wonder what would have become of me if I hadn't been trained for the job I have—what would I do without my family giving me the opportunity they have?" Cas's wandering eyes suddenly catch Dean's and he straightens with a jolt, "I'm sorry, that was remiss of me. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

Dean gives a crooked smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he processes what he's heard, "If I knew you wanted to sleep, I would have made you some Greek coffee."

"But then we would not be out to lunch."

Anything Dean would have said to that is interrupted by the waitress bringing them their drinks and assuring them their lunches will be out shortly. Cas takes a long sip of his orange juice, sighing when he finishes.

Dean twirls the straw in his coke, "I don't think you lack initiative or skills—you made that awesome pie and that was all you, it had nothing to do with family connections."

Cas' lip twitches up, "thanks, Dean."

"I mean it, you could open a shop if you wanted—a bakery—it would do well."

Cas give a bark of laughter, and Dean would marvel at the sound if only Cas wasn't laughing at his own considerable skills. Cas' laugh is gone as quick as it came, but his smile stays, small and light as always. Dean is not about to let it go, but the waitress again cuts in, putting the sandwich and salad down in front of their respective recipients. Cas goes right to town, eating his salad like a man starved, and yeah, Dean knows the food is good, but it isn't that good.

"Settle down there, Cas," Dean motions to Cas' fork hand when Cas meets his eyes, "it'd be awkward having to bring you back to the hospital because you choked on your rabbit food."

Cas tilts his head just so before seeming to come to a mental decision on what Dean can only guess was his comment of 'rabbit food', he gives a sheepish little smile and goes back to eating at a noticeably slower rate.

"Good," Dean smiles and takes a bite of his own meal, feeling like he's accomplished something much greater than just getting Cas to eat at a more human pace. The two fall into a companionable silence that Dean would find more comfortable if Cas still didn't look like he was a moment away from being committed to the hospital as a patient, not a staff member.

"You get any vacation time, Cas?"

Cas looks startled at the question before nodding, "the standard amount."

Dean fights back a smile, Cas's eyes look extra blue when they're wide with incomprehension, "you take any of that yet?"

"Well, no. There's no need."

Dean gives an incredulous laugh, "Cas, you look like you're running on empty, don't keep pushing yourself, take a few days."

"I took that day none too long ago," Cas reminds him, "after the bar incident."

'Bar incident' Dean mouths because that's just funny, "okay, yeah, but you obviously need more," Dean gestures to Cas's entire self and Cas looks down at himself in what can only be described as self-conscious, "or get an assistant or something. Or hey, you can change careers; I'm not shitting you about the bakery thing, Cas."

Cas moves his lettuce around listlessly, his earlier hunger forgotten, "it's not that simple, I'd be going against my family, and if nothing else it'd be detrimental to the hospital."

"The hospital doesn't seem to be doing you any favors." Dean says a bit more snidely than he meant.

Cas shoots him an annoyed look, "it's a hospital, Dean, there are a lot more important things to worry about on any given day than the general happiness of the administrative staff."

"Okay, okay, sorry," Dean sighs, he knows he went too far, but he just has to get in the last word, "I just don't like seeing you like this."

Cas softens, "thank you for your concern, but really, I'll be fine." He gives a smile that only serves to make Dean more worried than less. Cas can obviously take a lot, he's been taking a lot for a while, but it's small things like that that make Dean want to whisk Cas away and protect those soft smiles, make them more frequent, hear Cas laugh loud and long for no other reason than he's happy.

Wow, Dean's totally a chick.

Dean grunts (manfully) and takes a large bite of his sandwich, gets the testosterone pumping.

"What about your ideas of opening a coffee shop, Dean," Cas brings up, "have you made any headway in that?"

Dean coughs, almost choking, Cas gives him a concerned look, but Dean holds up a hand to stop him, Dean'll be fine (he knew he took too big of a bite).

Dean clears his throat, "I don't think now's really a good time…" and its code for 'that was a moment of weakness confession, I can't do something like that' but Cas doesn't seem to understand that code.

"There'll never be a 'good time', as I understand it, Dean. You have all the talent, skill, and experience. If you need capitol I'm sure I could help, or we could look at bank loans if that makes you uncomfortable." Cas shrugs, "I think it'd be a hit."

Dean feels color rising to his cheeks, the praise is so sincere it's almost daunting, "thanks Cas, but I don't wanna do any risky things while Sam's still in college. Besides, there are plenty of coffee shops out there. Who's to say mine would compete?" Cas opens his mouth, obviously fit to respond, but Dean continues, "I don't just want a coffee shop, I want something special, something to make it different, not just another place you can't tell from 'bucks"

Cas leans closer to the table, salad forgotten, a thoughtful look on his face, "I don't know what that special something could be," he says slowly, carefully, "but if anyone can figure it out, I'm sure you can."

Dean quirks a smile, awkwardly, before shifting in his seat, "you ready to go?"

Cas nods.

"Car still broken?"

Cas gives a rueful smile, "It would seem that there's actually no point in fixing it; more money in than it's worth. I've thought about going car shopping but…"

"Haven't found the time?"

Cas makes a sound of agreement, "luckily the bus gets me close enough to where I need to go."

"No need for that today, I'll give you a lift," Dean pulls his chair out, throwing down a twenty. That's another awesome thing about this café, it's cheap.

"You really don't have to," Cas eyes the bill, "and really I can pay."

"I asked you, Cas, and its fine, I'm always looking for an excuse to drive my baby."

That seems to be enough to convince Cas, so they make their way to the Impala parked behind Dean's place of employment. Dean doesn't bother thinking about how good Cas looks in his car, but not thinking about it doesn't change the fact. The ride is fairly uneventful, traffic isn't bad; the silence is comfortable. Dean pulls up to the curb across from Cas's place and puts the car in park.

"And here we are."

"Here we are," Cas repeats with a faint twitch of the lips.

"Get some sleep, 'kay Cas?" Dean's brow furrows, "I know things at the hospital are important and all that, but seriously, think of yourself—" Dean cuts off, Cas's smile has a teasing edge—"and I sound like a mom. Okay, I get it, get out of my car." Dean turns away, heat rising to his cheeks as he runs a hand through his hair.

The door opens, loud as it does, but Cas doesn't immediately exit.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean turns, ready for the witty snip or fond teasing. Neither comes. Cas leans in and then there's warm, soft lips against Dean's in a short, chaste kiss.

Cas pulls off a scant inch, "thanks." Dean feels the word as hot air against his already tingling lips.

Cas is out of the car and up his steps before Dean's processed what just happened.

"Wait I'm not—" the door closes, Cas behind it, and Dean glances down to see a crisp ten dollar bill on the passenger seat, "…gay."