Author's Note: Revised on 5/15/2018

-max out a credit card

Singer's Auto Repair Shop

Castiel ran a tired hand through his hair. The work car was on its way to Singer's Auto Repair shop where he had just had his beautiful precious Mustang towed, on Sam's advice that it was the best Auto Shop in the area. He shuttered when he remembered the awful paint job he had just done to his precious car…

The black Audi pulled up to the shop and Castiel exited the car and gave a futile attempt at smoothing out the front of his gray hoodie that he was sure smelled like he'd possibly washed it in whiskey. He knew he looked like a mess with a horizontal tear across the center of his thigh revealing his painfully pale skin, his beat up converse, a black beanie pulled over his head to contain his unruly hair and his hood pulled up trying to conceal as much of his face as he could. He topped of his ridiculous outfit with a pair of Ray Bans in a vain attempt to hide his bloodshot, hungover eyes. He leaned through the open passenger window. "I'll be just a moment."

"Yes, Mr. Novak."

He patted his hand on the car door and made his way to the small shop. The door above him jingled and he slouched uncomfortably. He stood for a moment inhaling the scent of grease, oil and paint. There was an older and surly man standing behind the counter shuffling through some papers. Castiel turned on his 'Novak charm' as best as his hungover state would allow and strode up to the front desk clearing his throat. "Hello-," He made a bold assumption, "Mr. Singer." The old man gave him a critical look and Castiel forced his way through. He was a successful business after all and this – this counted as business, right? "My name is Castiel Novak. Um-," He hesitated, remembering the state in which his car was dropped off. He cleared his throat. "The Mustang that was brought in early this morning. That's err. Well it's mine."

He was right to be nervous when he noticed the older mechanic's instant anger. "Ah! So that beauty is ruined because of you, is it now?" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. Ruined was a bit melodramatic… of course he wasn't sure about the state that Balthazar had left it in. Before Castiel could defend himself, Bobby spoke again. "Hand me your I.D." He demanded. Castiel fumbled in his front pocket, pulling out his wallet and removing his license handing it to the man in front of him. Mr. Singer started making a copy and he turned around, "Garth!"

A moment later, a small skinny kid in his early twenties emerged from behind a door. "What's up Bobby?"

Mr. Singer removed the copy of Castiel's license and handed back the original. "Got the owner of the Mustang here." The kid perked up and Castiel felt eyes on him. He fumbled to put away his ID. "Do me a favor and get Dean for me, will ya?" The kid disappeared, and he again felt the irritation from the older man. "Well I was able to take a quick look at your car this morning. From what I can see, you were running low on pretty much every fluid in your engine…" Mr. Singer waited and Castiel realized he was looking for a response.

"Right." He nodded. "I drove from New York a few days ago and I think the drive was a bit much."

"New York, huh?" Mr. Singer glared. "And you didn't think to take it in for any tune up?" Castiel said nothing. Mr. Singer began ranting about the importance of taking care of a vehicle of that age, make and model… mentioned something about the clutch, but Castiel found his body aching, and the alcohol resurfacing. He leaned forward on the desk suddenly nervous that he wouldn't be able to support his own body weight. He was only half listening. As long as they were able to fix it, Castiel didn't care what he'd have to pay. He leaned his head heavily onto his palm, eyes slipping slightly. Sure, it seemed stupid, but he loved that car. Had it all through college, bought it when it was just a piece of moving scrap metal, and worked a part time job in school to pay to have someone start to restore it. He'd have done it himself if he'd known anything about cars. He remembered parking it in an old field in Pontiac, Illinois on a particularly rough day, writing his very first song. "You didn't catch any of that, did ya, ya idjit?"

Castiel straightened up suddenly aware of how rude he was being. He cleared his throat. "Ah, I'm sorry Mr. Singer." He ran a hand over his head, pulling off his hood in the process. "Listen, I'm going to be forward with you. I am absolutely terrible with vehicles." He leaned over the countertop. His heart was pounding, and he hoped he could show his desperation. "Please, tell me you can fix it."

Mr. Singer gave him a reproachful glare and although he couldn't see Castiel's eyes, he still hoped that he could convey the fact that he would not back down. "I should confiscate that vehicle from you, son." Castiel held his breath watching Bobby rummage in a cupboard underneath him for something before pulling up a clipboard with some paperwork. Castiel scanned over the document, eyes darting back and forth to make sure he had all the information he needed. "Treating a beauty like her with such disrespect…" He chided.

Castiel looked up. "My car is a male."

Mr. Singer raised an eyebrow at him seeming to give him another once over. "Either way, ya idjit! I'll get it done." Castiel couldn't help but detect a bit of paternal warmth in his voice. "You think you could wait a day?"

Castiel nodded in response." Yes. Thank you, Mr. Singer."

Bobby waved his hand absentmindedly. "Call me by first name, kid."

Castiel couldn't help but feel the small victory at being allowed permission to use the man's first name. His stomach dropped. What was his first name? "Thank you err…." He checked the top of his paperwork. Robert Singer. "Robert."

Castiel turned away and began walking to one of the waiting room chairs reading through the clipboard. Basic information… name… address… He was about to sit down when he heard Robert call out.

"Dean, follow me."

He looked up to once over the man that he assumed would be working on his car and he froze. He felt his stomach do several flips and his heart started pounding in his throat. He swallowed. There was a young mechanic in a dirty Metallica shirt, torn jeans, work boots and short sandy blonde hair. He couldn't see his eyes, but his profile was enough to make him squirm… the strong jaw with light stubble, the plump perfect dark pink lips… He shifted his stance and Castiel could almost feel himself melt catching sight of a pair of perfect bowlegs. His hands went slack and the clipboard fell from his fingers and onto the floor. The sound echoed loudly in the waiting room. The two mechanics snapped their attention towards him and he felt himself flush. He quickly grabbed the clipboard off the floor and turned away from them pulling up his hood.

Focus Castiel…

He slouched in the nearest chair and set to the task of filling out paperwork, refusing to look up. Once he heard a door shut he relaxed and looked around the room letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. What the hell just happened?

He flew through his paperwork handing it the skinny kid from earlier… Garth. "Thank you, I'll have my assistant Alfie pick up the car tomorrow."

Garth beamed. "Not a problem sir! We'll call ya as soon as it's all fixed up."

Castiel glanced at the door the bowlegged mechanic had gone through earlier finding himself longing to see another glimpse of him. He shook his thoughts away and turned back to Garth. "Have a nice day."

-[]-

"I'm sorry, I maxed out which credit card?"

Castiel was coming out of the bathroom in his office attempting to straighten out the black tie with his navy suit. Thank god he had small closet with spare suits at work. He switched the phone to speaker phone, placing it on the desk and towel drying his hair.

"Yes sir, your blue card is maxed out."

He chucked the towel back into the bathroom and ran a hand over his face exasperatedly. "Augh… Can you read off the purchases and dates, please?"

"Yes sir, the purchases appeared to have been made last night…" Castiel rolled his eyes. Of course…

"And the purchases themselves?" Castiel moved to sit behind his desk, taking the phone off speaker and placing it back to his ear.

"Um…" The voice seemed to be trying to stifle its amusement. "It appears you've bought a small luxury plane sir."

He dropped his head to the desk and groaned. "Alright." He shrugged against the desk. "I'll pay it off immediately."

"You would like me to keep the charge then?"

"Yes, thank you." He put the phone down and touched the screen ending the call. He moved his head so his cheek was pressed against the desk letting the cool surface relieve a bit of his headache. (Max out a credit card)

His stomach rumbled and he held up his wrist checking his clock. 12:32PM. He had hardly started working – having taken the morning to deal with his car and of course getting ready upon arriving at work, considering his long sleeves were still thawing out – but he found that he was already ready to go home. He briefly wondered just how unprofessional it would be to take a lunch break.

There was a light knocking at the office door. He lifted his head and sat up at his desk. "Come in."

Alfie's head popped through the door. "Hello, Mr. Novak." He entered the room carrying a bag. "I assumed you'd be hungry, having skipped breakfast and forgotten lunch this morning. I've picked you up a sandwich from the local deli."

Castiel's mouth started watering. "Thank you." Alfie placed the bag on the table and gave him a light smile. "Really Alfie, you've been a tremendous help the last few days."

Alfie nodded in response. "Any time, sir." He left the room.

Castiel took a bite and moaned into his sandwich. Oh yeah… that kid was getting a permanent position.