(Originally, these were two separate chapters, but I went ahead and combined them because of how short they were. The next chapter also may or may not be a little longer in coming, because I'm not entirely happy with how it's timed right now...blurgle. I feel like it needs more between this and what I have planned next...ehehehe. Okay. I'm shutting up now. Enjoy this chapter.)

Here's the thing. Cas is not by nature an argumentative man. He is sarcastic, yes, and defensive, maybe, but it's not like he makes a habit of picking fights with baristas who happen to be the older (attractive) brothers of his best friend/neighbor. It's just that Dean is really easy to bicker with for several reasons (attractiveness), and also, he's the one who's usually starting the fights, so really, none of this is Cas's fault. At all.

He doesn't think he ought to be blamed, then, when on Monday morning his and Dean's back-and-forth stream of meaningless insults across the coffee counter grows increasingly heated until Sam has to step in and separate them. Because it was Dean's fault. Damn attractive motherhugger. Sam manhandles Dean away from the counter and then grabs Cas by the elbow and leads him outside.

"Look, Cas," Sam says once they're through the door, "I love you, dude, but you guys can't be fighting in the shop. I'm sorry that Dean's a dick and you don't get along, but if you can't be around him then maybe you shouldn't be in the shop as often." He presses his lips together and makes those puppy-eyes that make him so hard to say no to and okay, okay! Cas runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.

"Sorry," he says. "I'll, uh, try to control myself." He's basically just saying it just to make Sam feel better, because it's not my fault, but still. The thought of losing his Winchester's privileges scares him more than he's exactly willing to admit to himself.

After Sam goes back inside, Cas stands on the bottom step up to his office and doesn't want to go upstairs. He glances through the window to the coffee shop inside and sees Sam glaring at Dean, who's across the room sweeping. When Dean turns so his face is to the window, Cas thinks he looks sad.

Well, screw him, Cas thinks with sudden vehemence, he's costing me my coffee. And he stomps up the stairs. Ruby rolls her eyes when he bangs open the door to the office.

"Fight with the boyfriend? Oh – wait, forgot you don't have one," she says sarcastically. Cas glares at her. "Jesus. Won't get one with that face, either."

"Shut up, Ruby."

"Or maybe you need one, make you nicer. I have this friend named Luc – "

Cas shuts the door to his office and tries not to dwell on the injustice of a world that makes beautiful baristas into assholes by drafting several boring cover letters. It doesn't work.

It rains the whole week long, and the next Monday morning is cold and doesn't look hopeful for sunshine. Cas rubs his hands together as he walks into Winchester's for the first time since Sam kicked him out (his coffee maker at home got a workout this week). When he looks around, he's glad to see Sam smiling at him and totally not disappointed that Dean isn't anywhere in sight. Life must be out to please Cas, however, since Dean saunters out of the back room while Cas and Sam are making small talk and leans his forearms on the counter. He smirks.

"Look who showed up," he says.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Dean – "

Dean groans and slides off of the counter. "Sorry, sorry, don't want to intrude."

Sam turns to Cas again and starts to say something when Jo calls to him from the back room and he excuses himself with a smile. Cas is set to go drink the office coffee from the Keurig Ruby insisted they needed when Dean suddenly steps back to the counter. Cas sighs.

"I don't suppose you're spitting in my drinks when you make them, are you?"

Dean considers this. "Not unless you've been spitting in the tip jar," he says after a moment. He turns to make Cas's latte.

"That's disgusting."

"That's life."

"Not really the brightest outlook."

"Not really the greatest life."

Cas frowns. Sam had, occasionally, hinted that he hadn't had the greatest time growing up – hence the whole running-away-to-California-and-starting-a-coffee-shop thing – but he'd always sort of brushed it off like it was no big deal, so Cas had too. He suddenly thinks that might make him a shitty friend.

Cas shrugs off this train of thought in favor of making another comeback. "A life full of unhappy customers?" he asks flippantly.

"Oh, believe me," Dean says with a laugh. "I always make people happy." He turns and braces his hands on the counter next to Cas's hips and leans in so there's only inches between their faces. He lowers his voice and fairly growls out his next words. "Very, very, happy."

Cas does not, does not stare at his lips. It's difficult. "Is that so?" is the only thing he manages to say. Dean hmms in affirmation and breathes in deeply and oh god, did Cas just get turned on by his barista smelling him? Oh god. He's starting to wonder if he will ever be able to move away from the counter when Dean does it first, whips around and finishes the latte while humming a Led Zeppelin song. He smirks when he hands it across the counter to Cas, who pretty much shoves his cash at him and mutters keep the change before he rushes out of the shop.

Oh god.