Dean Winchester is many things. Brother. Professor. Sci-Fi Geek. But a morning person he is not. He’s so much not a morning person, that he doesn’t even have the energy to make coffee at home before going to teach his classes at the local college.
That’s why he relies on the coffee shop close to campus, Wake & Bake. Large coffees and small pies made for breakfast consumption are the way to his cobwebbed-riddled, gay heart.
Dean doesn’t even have enough energy to feel sorry for himself for how long it has been since he’s had a relationship so he shrugs it off and waltzes into his home away from home.
With finals week approaching, the shop is a little busier than normal, so he takes the opportunity to think of what he wants today. He likes to fuck with the baristas and try to come up with the most ridiculous order.
Dean shuffles slowly in the line until it’s his turn. “Hi, Dean!”
“Hey, Kevin! How is your history class going for you?” Kevin is a sophomore at the college Dean teaches at and while they most likely won’t cross paths in the Engineering department, he appreciates others who love to learn and he likes to encourage the kid when he can.
“Great! Thankful to be at a college that teaches shit other than Crusty White Dude 101.”
Dean chuckles and he thinks he might have heard someone else in line chuckle with him. Which reminds him he probably should order so he’ll have enough time to savor a quiet moment before enduring the chaos of the physics lab.
“Ok, so how about a large latte with a small scoop of unicorn ice cream, topped with whipped cream and chocolate chips?”
“You, monster!” Dean hears behind him.
He arches a brow and slowly looks over his shoulder with a look of incredulity to see what asshat would dare judge someone’s drink order.
He’s about to throw out an “excuse me??” but the sounds out of his mouth are stopped by the genuine smile of the man behind him. Ok, so not an ass - just playing. But holy mother of lips. He flicks up to see the face that matches those lips and holy mother of eyes.
Pushing down the stutters in his chest, Dean smiles at the beautiful man behind him.
“What did coffee ever do to you to ask for such a concoction?” The man asks.
The skin around Dean’s eyes crinkles as he chuckles. “If it has caffeine in it and it’s sweet, I’m not too picky. I just mainly like to make sure to keep ‘ol Kevin here on his toes.”
Kevin yells from the back counter while starting on Dean’s drink. “Don’t let him lie to you. He does it just to be a pain in the ass and make us clean the maximum amount of containers and counters as possible.”
He gives Kevin a shit-eating grin. “I aim to please.”
Dean hears a low hum beside him at that comment and his eyes flick quickly to see that the man’s face has turned from a genuine smile to a smirk with possibly a hint of heat in his eyes.
But here comes the difficult part of being queer. Is this beautiful man interested in men? Is he just teasing? Is he going to say something awful or throw a punch if Dean asks for his number? Dean doesn’t know the answers to these questions, so he does what he normally does at these crossroad-type moments and allows the want and desire to dissipate. Better to be alone than disappointed or beaten up, he thinks.
Dean can’t help the blush on his cheeks from the man’s comment, however. He thanks Kevin as he’s handed his coffee and spares one more look at the beautiful, judgy-coffee-order man and gives him a small smile as he goes to sit at his usual table.
He takes a drink of his abomination of a coffee and raises his eyebrows at just how sweet the drink actually is. Dean opens his book and tries to lose himself in reading as he normally does, but he can’t help his thoughts and eyes from wandering to the man across the coffee shop.
The rays of light filtering in through the windows as the sun rises highlights the tips of the man’s wind-swept hair. The dust motes floating in the rays of light seem to dance around him as if they too find him beautiful and are trying to avoid the effects of gravity as long as possible just to stay in his orbit for a while.
What Dean wouldn’t give to just have a modicum of moxie and bravery. To stand up and walk across the room and introduce himself. But the mere thought feels like a stone in his stomach and causes his heart to race. Maybe one day he’ll overcome the experiences he had as a gay kid in rural America, but today is not that day.
Dean glances down at his book before the man can catch him staring. He’s in the middle of reading the same sentence for the third time and about to give up on trying to concentrate when he hears a shuffling of feet and a folded note drops on his book.
He looks up to find the beautiful man standing before him with a shy smile. Dean is too stunned to say anything and just gawps at the man’s closeness and beauty while he can. The man continues to smile as he backs away and heads towards the door.
Dean should tell him to wait. He should just run after him. But the possibility of what could possibly be in the note chains him to his chair. He watches the man until he rounds the corner and then Dean wrenches the note open.
On the left side of the note is a sketch of a bat holding a coffee cup and a name with a phone number. Cas. The beautiful man’s name is Cas.
On the right side of the note is a quote:
‘Dream up something wild and improbable. Something beautiful and full of monsters.’
‘Beautiful and full of monsters?’
‘All the best stories are.’
Dean feels a chip of the rock in his stomach let loose and as the chip floats it away it feels something like hope.