The next few weeks are kind of a blur at work. Cas and Ruby are running around preparing for their annual charity gala ("Does the caterer have shrimp balls? WE CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT SHRIMP BALLS, CAS!") and when he's not making phone calls to prospective donors, Cas is collapsed at his window table with a full-caf latte, making small talk to whoever comes by. More often than not, that turns out to be Dean. Cas had thought Dean probably wouldn't want to talk to him after the alleyway incident, but he appears to be functioning like it never happened. Or like anything before that happened, really. Which is okay with Cas. Mostly, he doesn't really want to be saddled with being the only person who knows Dean's insecurities, but he also might not want to admit that he liked how it felt to have Dean's body pressed up against his.
So Dean comes by the table, sometimes sits down, and is generally polite, if not pleasant (which, Dean Winchester can be charming? That's new). Sometimes Dean tells him about how Sam almost broke his other leg trying to stand on a chair, other times Cas complains about his loud frathouse neighbors. After a while it actually becomes really easy to converse with Dean, and all previous experiences aside, Cas thinks he might like being friends with Dean.
One Wednesday, Cas is balancing his latte in one hand and his worn-out copy of Cat's Cradle in the other when Dean drops down in the chair across from him. "I prefer Slaughterhouse-Five," he says.
Cas looks up at him in surprise. "You read Vonnegut?" he asks.
"Around and around and around we spin, with feet of lead and wings of tin," Dean recites. Cas tries not to gape. "Yeah. Dude's pretty great. I've got his, uh, his birdcage tattooed here." Dean taps his chest just above his heart. "I mean it's just, you know, got some personal meaning. Sam hasn't even seen it." He clears his throat and shifts in his seat.
"I personally didn't care for Breakfast of Champions," Cas says, and then without thinking, "but I'm sure I'd like to see your tattoo."
Dean keeps a neutral expression but tilts his head to the side. Cas raises one eyebrow.
"Yeah," Dean says slowly. "Maybe." His tongue darts out to lick his lips and Cas shrugs.
"I suppose it's just not for everybody."
Dean blinks at him. "Uh."
"The book."
"Oh! Right. The book. Not for everyone, yeah." He shifts and licks his lips again (a motion which Cas does not stare at, okay, maybe a little, shut up).
Right, time for a change of subject. "My sponsorship gala's on Saturday," Cas says, "and you and Sam are welcome to come. Sam's come before."
Dean relaxes and wrinkles his nose up. "Is it fancy?"
Cas grins. "Black tie," he says, "to impress the rich donors."
"Well, shoot," Dean says with mock disappointment, "You really shouldn't want me there, then." Then he smirks at Cas and Cas can't help but laugh.
"Your brother already scared off the worst of them last year. Has he ever told you about it? He showed up in that awful brown suit of his…" The rest of the story is told through tears of laughter at Sam's expense, even after he hobbles over to chastise Cas for telling embarrassing stories.
Needless to say, Wednesday is a good day. Cas doesn't come in to Winchester's on Thursday, but he stops by briefly on Friday morning to grab coffee before he has to run errands all day long. Dean smiles when he runs Cas's credit card through. "Looking forward to tomorrow," he says. It surprises Cas, but in a nice way that makes his stomach flutter, and not just because it'll make his charity look good. He smiles shyly back at Dean.
"I'm looking forward to it, too," he says. "If it all goes according to plan."
Dean chuckles. "I'm sure it will." He looks Cas right in the eye when he hands him his coffee cup and says conspiratorially, "There's lots of things you can pull off as long as you're in a tuxedo."
Cas feels his face heat up and whoops, that's not from the hot latte in his hand. It might be from the fingertips brushing against his, though. His smile twitches again and he may just sway his hips a little bit as he leaves the shop.
For reference, Vonnegut's birdcage looks like this: . . It's a reference to a scene in Breakfast of Champions where Kilgore Trout tries to set his parakeet free, and the bird refuses to leave - which Trout thinks is the best choice, since now he'll always have something to look forward to.
As always, thank you and I love you all for reading! [: