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Dean huffs a quick breath, both excited and a little panicked. This is new and this is something he doesn’t know if he’s good at. Cars? He can fix them up all day and night, but making coffee? He barely knows the difference between a latte and a cappuccino, seeing as he only takes his black and bitter. To counter his otherwise cheerful life.
Okay, it’s not that bad. So he and Sammy lost their parents in a car accident when they were kids. But Bobby took them in and made sure they didn’t miss anything. He played catch with them, he made them hot meals, and took care of them when they were sick. Heck, he even taught Dean everything he knows about cars.
That’s why Dean is taking this job. The garage isn’t doing so great and Sam needs money, even with a full ride to Stanford. Besides, how hard can it be? Not like he really needs to know how to make these drinks. All he has to do is push a button and hand over the coffee the fancy machine makes to the customer at the window. No biggie.
Truthfully, he was a little surprised when he first saw they were opening a coffee shop with a drive-thru. But it makes sense; a lot of people don’t have time to park and come in for their order, too busy going to work and stuff. He just hopes he doesn’t mess this up.
☕☕☕
Three days later and Dean is already a pro, taking orders over the intercom while preparing orders for the customer before. He grabs a cup, slides it under the machine, and presses the button for the desired drink. While the machine is pouring the hot liquid, he grabs a cap and a napkin, ready to make sure the cup is secure against any spillage and not too hot for the customer to grab.
He hears it through the intercom before the man even pulls up to it. Even though the sound is making Dean’s ears hurt and his heart ache, it still brings a smile to his face. The car might be in bad shape and in desperate need of a new belt, but the driver is the most handsome man Dean has ever seen. It takes everything in his power not to just stare at the man’s mesmerizing blue eyes whenever he pulls up to Dean’s window.
And he never orders the same thing, always trying something new, something different. He even tried the watermelon syrup special they had yesterday (it was a total disaster of an idea, they only sold two of those).
“Goooood morning, may I take your order?” He says into his headset, already smiling widely. He is really curious as to what drink the good looking, blue eyed man will pick this time.
“Um, hi, hello… Ah… Can I get a tea?”
“Oh, um, sure. What kind of tea would you like?” Dean is a little thrown off by the request, but won’t have a problem making it, the machine has just the hot water option.
“Any tea, I don’t mind. I’d just like it with honey please,” the guy says.
“Okay, we have this chai spice black tea, would that work?” One of Dean’s coworkers made that tea for herself the other day and the scent of it alone was mesmerizing. He thinks it has cinnamon in it too, but he’s never been the tea drinking kind of a guy, so he didn’t try it. He is definitely reconsidering it now.
“Yeah, that sounds interesting,” the man replies and Dean feels butterflies flutter in his stomach because it sounds like the guy is pleased and smiling.
“Alright, that would be three dollars and twenty-five cents. Please pull up to the window,” Dean says and that feeling in his gut intensifies. He’s about to see his favorite customer - this really makes his whole day.
The car pulls up to the window and Dean grits his teeth at the squealing sound the car makes. He knows he should say something, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to come off as rude or worse, have someone think he is trying to poach customers for his father’s business. So he just puts on a smile, which turns more genuine when he meets those gorgeous blue eyes.
The man has the most amazing bed hair and the most ridiculous trenchcoat on, not to mention that sharp jawline and very soft-looking, freshly-shaved cheeks; none of it should work, but somehow it does. There is always an old briefcase on the passenger seat and it makes Dean think the dude is some kind of businessman or something. If only he had the courage to ask.
“Hi again,” he says instead, trying so hard not to just blurt out something stupid. The thing is, Dean can be such a smooth talker when he is trying to flirt with someone, but this guy… There is just something different about him. Something that renders Dean into a fumbling, blushing high school boy he’s never actually been.
“Hello, Dean,” the man says as he hands over two two-dollar bills, making Dean jolt. Not only is it weird because who has two-dollar bills, but also, how does he know–
“It’s on your vest,” the man adds, tapping his chest. It is then that Dean remembers that he actually has a name plate there. Right. See? He’s an idiot.
“Oh, I…” he tries, but he’s got nothing beside a deep burning blush on his cheeks, so he turns to the register to count the change.
“Keep it,” the guy says, giving Dean this small smile. He must think Dean is the biggest loser he’s ever seen. Trying to salvage a shred of his dignity, Dean forces a smile on his face and hands over the tea, bottom wrapped in a napkin. The cups are cheap and thin, and he doesn’t want this guy (or any other customer for that matter) to burn their hand.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And, ah… If it makes you feel better… My name is Castiel, but friends call me Cas…” he trails off, and for just a moment Dean thinks he sees the guy, Cas, blushing too. But before he could get a better look, the guy is speeding off, the car squealing like it is begging someone for help.
The whole interaction leaves Dean a little stunned, but also giddy - he knows his crush’s name now. And yes, he is totally being a lovestruck high schooler with a freaking crush. So what? Sammy might tease him about it, but Charlie is going to be super supportive and thrilled about it, and that it makes him feel good. He can be a little unhinged about the whole thing, he’s earned it.
☕☕☕
“Can I get chai spice black tea, please?” Cas says in the intercom the very next day and Dean feels his smile widening. He liked the tea Dean offered. He liked it so much that he is ordering it again, that is the first repeat order he’s ever gotten from the guy.
“Sure thing, Cas, coming right up. That would be three dollars and twenty-five cents, you can pull up to the window,” Dean says and goes about making the tea. The moment he turns to hand it over and meets those blue eyes he is once again rendered speechless. Damn. And he hoped he could at least say something nice, compliment the guy, anything really! But NOOOO. If he weren’t smiling, his mouth would be opening and closing like a damn fish.
“Keep the change,” Cas says and hands over two two-dollar bills again. It’s weird, where does he keep getting these? Dean looks them over, trying to see if there is anything out of the ordinary about them, but nothing really stands out. Just two regular bills, rare, but not impossible to come across.
It’s not until the next day when Cas hands him two two-dollar bills again that Dean pays special attention to them and recognizes the same tear in the corner. These are the same bills Cas gave him the day before. But how is that possible? Charlie is depositing everything in the bank at the end of the day and–
Yeah, he’s an idiot. A real dumbass idiot.
Cas must work at the bank. He gets these bills, and since a lot of people think they’re fake and don’t really want to accept them, he swaps them for his own one-dollar bills or something like that. It’s the most reasonable explanation.
“So, how’s the bank work going?” He asks Cas the next day, leaving the man stunned just like Dean was when Cas said his name.
“How do you know I work at the bank?”
“The bills, of course,” Dean tells him as he hands over the tea and grabs the money. Once again, he hands over the same two bills.
“Of course,” Cas replies. He is definitely blushing and while it makes Dean feel a little giddy, he also feels bad. He didn’t mean to embarrass the guy. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words, but before he can, Cas is grabbing his drink and peeling off. That poor car is still screaming for help.
It makes him feel so uneasy, but he doesn’t even know how to talk to the guy, much less tell him his serpentine belt is loose or glazed, or that maybe he has a bad tensioner.
☕☕☕
“Good morning, Cas. Are we going for chai spice again, or would you like to spice it up a little?” Dean says into the headset and promptly cringes at his words. Thankfully, or unfortunately, Cas actually considers it.
“Spice it up? What can you add beside the honey?”
“Oh, um…” Think Winchester, think! “I could add some pumpkin spice into it.” Wouldn’t that be the same damn thing? “Or, or, how about a splash of chocolate syrup?” Seriously?
“Chocolate? That sounds… Odd.”
“Yeah, maybe not the best id–”
“I’ll try it,” Cas’s voice cuts him off.
“Really?”
“Yes. One Chai Spice Black tea with a splash of chocolate syrup, please.”
“Coming right up,” Dean says through a chuckle, then tells Cas to get to the window. He goes about making the drink, flashing Cas only a brief smile as he immediately shifts his focus back to what he is doing. He just needs to make it good and hope it works.
“Here you go, on the house…” he trails off when his eyes meet Cas’. There is something different about them today; they seem brighter, more vibrant. In fact, Cas’ whole face seems even more handsome if it is even possible. His bed hair looks a little wilder today and there is a light stubble on his usually perfectly smooth jawline.
“You don’t have to do this,” Cas replies with a smile, but takes the tea.
“Nonsense,” Dean replies, “if I am making you try this monstrosity, you certainly don’t have to pay for it.”
“I doubt it is that bad,” Cas says, still keeping eye contact with Dean. Dean can’t look away, so he is just staring at Cas like a creep while internally he is cussing at himself to say something, anything.
“You know,” he starts, heart pounding faster and faster with every passing second, “I've been meaning to say this for a while now…”
Panic takes over, his breathing goes into overdrive while his mind is screaming Abort! Abort! Abort! He blinks, breaking eye contact, and looks away. His eyes slip onto the dashboard of Cas’ car and he sees the battery light is on.
“...You need a new belt,” he blurts out.
Cas frowns, looking down at his pants for a second before those confused eyes lift up towards Dean again. “I'm sorry, what?”
“The car. It needs a new belt. Or a new tensioner. Anyway, you should have it checked before it dies on you.”
“Oh,” Cas says and visibly deflates before his face starts turning red. Damn it. Dean’s messed up, he knows he has, but he has no clue what to say or do to fix this.
“I will do that,” Cas says, then shifts the car into gear before peeling off without looking at Dean.
“No, no, sonova…” Dean mutters, and takes a deep breath, then another, trying to hold himself back from lashing out at the register or at the coffee machine. He really doesn't need to break things and get fired, but damn if this doesn't leave him rattled all day. At the end, he tells himself he'll apologize to Cas tomorrow and explain.
Only tomorrow, Cas doesn’t show up. Nor the day after that, nor the day after that, and before Dean knows it, it's been over a week. He has to deal with the fact that he fucked up and probably won't get a chance to talk to Cas again.
☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕
Cas has never been so mortified in his life! He feels so dumb for even considering someone as handsome as Dean would even give him the time of day, much less flirt with him.
Cas has always been inept when it came to social cues, but he was so sure Dean liked him. He was always smiling, sometimes even blushing, and he really thought that there might be something there. And there sure was - it was Cas’ damn rust bucket of a car. He has no idea why he is even still using it now that the bus routes have been restored after the city fixed up the main road.
Dean was probably laughing at his ignorance and cringing at the sound the car was making. He probably felt so bad for Cas and thought he was so poor and that's why he gave him that free tea before finally saying what was on his mind – and that was that Cas needed to get his car checked out.
Stupid, stupid! Words run on repeat in his head, mirroring exactly how he feels. How could he be such an idiot? How could he not see that Dean was just being nice, probably offering smiles as part of his job in customer service. He was just being polite and you went and built it all up in your head. Idiot.
Cas feels off the rest of the day, and he must act like it too, because his coworkers notice. Thankfully, nobody says anything and Cas gets to go home still fuming at himself. It takes him too long to fall asleep.
His alarm goes off, and he doesn’t even realize he's snoozed until it wakes him up again, fifteen minutes later. Fifteen minutes too late. He should really change the settings on that snooze. But being late and rushing through his morning routine has been happening a few times lately so it's becoming a standard for him. Before he knows it, he is getting into his car, hair still a mess (but when is it not? He cannot tame it to save his life, unless he buys hair gel in bulk and makes himself look like he stepped out of Grease).
It's only when he's about to turn into the Sip'n'Sip's drive-thru that he realizes what he is doing. He doesn't make the turn. Feeling too damn embarrassed, he forgoes his morning tea and drives straight to work. He feels miserable all day. And the day after that. And again the day after that.
At one point he considers stopping by, just to grab a drink, maybe pretend like nothing happened. Dean has surely forgotten about him. Then he remembers that his car is still making that damn noise and he feels his cheeks burn up all over again. He should just go and get the damn car fixed.
The thing is, he's not really poor, but he is saving up to buy his own house and putting any money towards a car he doesn't even like feels like a waste. Yet the battery light has been on for a while and Dean did say it can get more serious, like completely die, and that way it will cost him a hell of a lot more.
So when two weeks after the coffee shop incident he asks his coworkers for a referral to a good mechanic, they all point him to the Singer Garage. Cas has actually seen Mr. Singer a few times, mostly in passing at the bank when he came to get a loan and sign papers. The man seemed a little intimidating and definitely rough around the edges, so Cas can only hope he won't get the riot act for not bringing the car in sooner.
That afternoon, instead of heading home, he takes off in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, he is pulling into the car repair shop’s parking lot. When he gets out, it occurs to him that he'll probably have to leave the car there for a few days, so he sighs as he looks around for a bus stop. He doesn't find any.
Guess he'll just have to ask in the repair shop after he hands over his car.
Taking a deep breath, he starts walking towards what looks like the office. Inside there is a small seating area with a water dispenser and a reception desk. There is nobody there so Cas walks up to the desk and hits the small bell.
“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses,” Mr. Singer shouts through the open door that probably leads to the garage floor. He sounds annoyed and Cas is really not looking forward to dealing with an angry man, but he can’t back out now. A few minutes later, Mr. Singer walks through the back door, eyeing Cas warily.
“What can I do fer ya?”
“Um, my car is making this weird, squealing noise, and I was told I should get it checked,” Cas replies, hoping that Mr. Singer will just take his number and his keys and tell him it will be a few days. He is not that lucky.
“A squealing noise?”
Yes, sir. I, um, I was told it could be the belt?” He feels so stupid all over again, repeating Dean’s words and hoping they actually mean something to Mr. Singer. Heck, he might have even misheard that and is now making a fool of himself.
“The belt, you say? Anythin’ else?” Mr. Singer asks, looking skeptical.
“Um, the battery light is on? And it feels… Strange when I drive it?” He tries, not sure he's making any sense, but Mr. Singer is nodding now and Cas feels just a tiny bit relieved.
“Sounds like you got in just in time then. We can take a look today, see what's what and give ya a call to see what you wanna do,” the old mechanic says.
“That sounds great, thank you,” Cas replies, smiling a bit now. Looks like it was a good call to bring the car over after all. Mr. Singer takes his information, jotting it all down in some old notebook before he takes Cas’ keys.
“You need a ride home, boy?” The other man asks just as Cas is about to say his goodbyes.
“Oh, I thought I'd just catch a bus,” he replies, but Mr. Singer is already shaking his head.
“Nonsense. My boy can drive you home,” he says and turns toward the back door. “Dean! Dean, get over here!”
Dean? Did he just say Dean?
Right on cue, through the back door steps out The Hot Barista Guy (yes, it is what Cas has been calling him inside his head, even though he knew it was wrong to objectify people in such a manner and also, he already knew the man’s name). Dean looks shocked and confused to see Cas there, but it only lasts a moment before his lips widen into the biggest smile he has ever seen.
“Cas! Hey,” he almost shouts, then rushes forward and around the counter, stopping only when he is just a few feet away. It felt like he physically contained himself from stepping even closer and… Hugging Cas? No, that is probably just his imagination.
“Um, hello, Dean. I wasn’t aware you worked here as well,” he says the first thing that pops to mind and yeah, it makes a valid point. Also makes sense how Dean knew what might be wrong with the car just by the sound of it. Turns out, Cas’ Hot Barista Guy is also his Hot Mechanic Guy. Not that he is his or anything.
Geez, even in his mind, he is a babbling idiot.
Dean ducks his head for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, but when he looks up, there is a cute little blush that makes his freckles stand out. It’s adorable. (Cut it out, stupid brain!)
“Yeah, this is my primary job actually, been here since I was a kid. The coffee shop thing’s a more recent gig.” The more he talks, the more his voice gets a bit of a drawl that matches Mr. Singer’s. It is strange, but also kind of endearing. Cas has never heard him talk like that.
“Oh, well, that explains how you knew it must be the belt thing on my car,” Cas says without thinking, drawing the conversation back to one of his most embarrassing moments. His cheeks heat up and he curses himself inwardly.
“About that…” Dean starts and Cas’ eyes snap up to meet his. He feels so drawn to them and thinks he can spend days, weeks, months just staring at them, learning all the secrets of the universe.
“When I told you about the belt, that… That wasn’t what I was trying to say. I, um… I wanted to ask you out, but I panicked and just kinda blurted the first thing that came to mind.”
Wait, what? Dean wanted to ask him out too?
Cas has been gathering courage to do it since the first time he has seen him, and he can’t believe Dean would actually want to go out with him. Baffled and shocked, he just keeps on staring at Dean for a few minutes until the other man speaks again.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think I did not get that impression,” Cas finds himself replying even as he is still trying to process everything. Dean lets out a dry chuckle that might be a little forced and it throws Cas off even more.
“Okay, fair enough. I guess I did mess up with that then and–”
“Oh for the love of everything holy, just ask him, you idjit!” Mr. Singer’s voice startles them both; it’s almost as if they have completely forgotten that the older man was there.
“Alright, alright, I will,” Dean says through a groan, glancing back at Mr. Singer for a moment before meeting Cas’ gaze once again. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and then asks, “Would you like to go out with me?”
Cas’ first instinct is to scream with joy and excitement, and he barely contains himself from doing so. Still, he can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. It feels even better when Dean mirrors that smile, wiping all trace of any insecurity he has been showing moments before.
“Is tonight too soon?” He blurts out, again, but he doesn’t even care. He gets to go on a date with the Hot Barista/Mechanic guy!
“Definitely not. Dinner and a movie?” Dean replies, looking just as excited as Dean is.
“Works for me.”
“Okay, okay,” he mutters, then turns towards Mr. Singer. The old mechanic waves him off before he can even ask, rolling his eyes when Dean shoots him a grin. “Okay, good, I can… I can drop you off, then go and get ready and then pick you up again?”
“That sounds acceptable,” Cas says, face hurting from how much he is smiling. It is actually ideal, because it will give him enough time to shower and pick an outfit and try to tame that damn hair of his. Still not putting any gel in it though.
Dean leads him out the back and towards the parking lot outside. There, he walks over to a beautiful muscle car (Cas thinks it might be a Chevy, but he’s not sure) and opens the passenger door. Cas lifts a brow, but smiles at the gesture, thanking Dean as he climbs in. Dean practically runs around the car and pops into the driver’s seat. He throws Cas one big grin before he starts the car.
“Oh.” The sound escapes Cas’ lips when he hears it purr and Dean turns to look at him with a pleased look on his face.
“Yeah, she sounds amazing, right? Cas, meet Baby. Baby, this is Cas.” Dean makes the introductions. Cas can’t keep the smile off his face.
“Dirty Dancing?”
“Oh my god, you got that reference?” Dean perks up, and Cas wants to hide away. The only reason he got it is because his brother made him watch the movie for the first time just a few days ago. He doesn’t say anything, just gives Dean a casual shrug, to which Dean only chuckles.
“Okay, where to?” Cas gives him the address of his apartment building and then they’re off. Dean talks all the way there, telling Cas about why he took the job at Sip’n’Sip and about Sammy. Apparently, Mr. Singer is his adoptive father. Then he tells him he wants to take him out for burgers, that he knows this great dive bar where they can get a good meal. Cas feels his stomach rumble at the thought of food, but he is even more excited at the prospect of spending the entire evening with Dean.
He is so giddy, he feels like he might vibrate out of his seat any moment now.
When Dean gets to Cas’ building, he puts the car in park and turns to Cas. His cheeks must hurt too, but he is still smiling. Cas knows he is grinning like an idiot too. “Okay, so, I can pick you up here in an hour? Does that work?”
“Yes!” Cas rushes to say, his excitement bleeding into his voice. Dean lets out a chuckle and nods. “Good, I’ll see you then.”
“Yes, yes, you will,” Cas says and doesn’t even care anymore what he sounds like. He reaches to grab the doorknob, but then pauses. One thought crosses his mind - why wait?
So he turns back to Dean, takes a long look at his smiling face and just– kisses him.
Dean is clearly surprised, freezing for a moment, but gets on with the program in the very next second, lifting his hand to cup Cas’ cheek. It feels so soft and tender and absolutely amazing. Before he gets too carried away, Cas pulls away, feeling a little dazed, but as far as he can see, Dean is no better.
“I know they usually do this at the end of the date, but I just couldn’t wait any longer,” he says.
“Oh, no, no, by all means. Feel free to kiss me any time,” Dean replies, his lips spit-slicked from the kiss. Cas can barely resist the urge to lean in again. Instead, he grabs the handle and pulls the door open, stepping out fast before he can change his mind.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” he replies, his lips again stretching into a smile. He has no idea how much more of this his face can take.
“An hour it is,” Dean replies. Cas shuts the door and starts walking towards his building, but he can’t help glancing back one more time. When he sees Dean fist bumping the air, he lets out a chuckle that turns into a laugh when Dean realizes he’s been caught.
Cas might feel like a high school boy before a prom date, but he still takes great comfort in knowing he’s not the only one that feels it.