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Pour Me Another Cup

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Dean walks past the coffee shop every day on his way to work, but never has the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the open door stopped him in his tracks. He stands there for a minute, his eyes closed, inhaling the scent as images of messy hair, sky blue eyes, strong arms, and a bright smile flash through his mind. He can hear the sound of a throaty chuckle on the wind.

‘’Scuse me,’ someone says, and Dean quickly steps aside for a woman clutching a takeaway coffee cup like it’s the solution to all her problems.

Dean peers inside the coffee shop, then looks at his watch. There’s not much of a line and the garage isn’t usually busy in the mornings. Bobby won’t miss him if he’s a couple minutes late.

Realizing full well that he’s going to get shit from both Bobby and his brother when they find out he’s gone to a coffee shop, Dean steps inside.

He’s never really understood the point of coffee shops. Don’t get him wrong, he understands the point of coffee, but why make up five hundred overprized variations of the same drink?  You can get a cup of coffee and a full breakfast for the same price at almost any diner. So, on principle, Dean’s never gone to a coffee shop.

As he steps inside, he’s enveloped by the warm, bitter smell of coffee and the warm, sweet smell of pastries. All Dean’s objections to coffee shops fly out the window. Shit, he could probably sit here for hours, just being enveloped by that scent. The interior of the shop looks cosy, like the living room of a great-aunt who still thinks you can do a lot with a dollar. Dean surmises this coffee shop is not part of one of those chains, which makes him warm up to it even more. He looked inside a Starbucks once and actually had chills running down his spine from the cold efficiency masking as homeliness.

There are two people waiting in front of him, and Dean uses the time to rehearse his order. He’s not going for a simple coffee. If he’s in a coffee shop, he might as well go for the full experience.

‘Can I have a Large Iced Coffee with vanilla syrup, but with half the ice. To go,’ he quickly adds. Something catches Dean’s attention in the corner of his eye. ‘And it must be my lucky day, because it looks like you have pecan pie left. So a piece of that too, please.’ He looks up to grin at the barista, and his smile drops from his face when he sees who’s behind the counter and is staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

‘Hello, Dean,’ Castiel says, his voice almost an octave higher than Dean remembers.

‘Hey, Cas.’ Dean does his best to ignore the fact that his face is turning bright red.

Yesterday, Dean and his brother’s wife Jess had finally convinced Sam that he’s still allowed to go out now that he’s a father. They’d gone to a bar, had a beer, shot some pool, threw a couple darts, and not even two hours later Sam had almost fallen asleep in their booth. Laughing, Dean had pushed his brother into a taxi, then gone back inside to have one more beer. He’d just wanted to relax a little more and enjoy the atmosphere of the bar. He hadn’t planned on picking anyone up; it was a Tuesday night and he had work in the morning. Not even when he struck up a conversation with the cute guy wearing the ugliest shirt Dean had ever seen sitting next to him at the bar, did it a occur to him to take the man home. In fact, it wasn’t until Castiel had walked him to his apartment building, and they were about to say goodbye, that Dean realized that he really, really wanted to kiss him. The kiss had tasted like coffee and beer. And when Dean had pressed Cas into the mattress a little later, he’d jokingly asked if Cas used coffee scented shower gel, because even his skin tasted like the stuff. Cas had smacked Dean’s butt, and told him that he worked at a coffee shop and he’d just gotten off a long shift.

After, Dean had teased about Cas about the coffee shop, but Cas had started listing all the tasty drinks they served and what his own favourites were in an attempt to change Dean’s mind. Dean had fallen asleep to the sound of Cas’ voice, and was woken up by that same voice muttering curses, almost an hour before his alarm went off. He’d opened his eyes to a flustered Cas trying to find all his clothes in the semi-darkness of the early morning. It had been a pretty funny sight, Cas with eyes squinted, figuring out what the front of his shirt was, his hair sticking up in all directions.

Dean had offered to help, but the tone of his voice must’ve tipped Cas off that Dean wasn’t planning on helping him with getting dressed faster. When he was approaching decent, Cas had pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead and run out of the apartment. It was only after the man was long gone, that Dean realized he didn’t have Cas’ number or any other way of reaching him.

And now Cas is standing in front him, his hair tamed and an apron tied around his waist.

‘I thought you didn’t agree with coffee shops?’ Cas asks.

‘Uhm, well...’ Dean mumbled, trying to say anything but “the smell reminded me of you so I decided to come in”. ‘You made quite a good case last night,’ he says instead. He almost turns around and walks out of the shop, because that’s not much better.

Cas’ smile is just wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. ‘I must have, since you just ordered what I told you was the perfect summer drink.’

Dean feels his face heat up even more. ‘It was either that, or a plain black coffee.’

‘Hmm,’ Cas hums. He presses a couple buttons on the register. ‘That’ll be your number please.’

‘What?’

‘The price of your coffee and pie. It’s your phone number.’

Dean blinks at the man in front of him. Did Cas just—

‘Unless I’m reading this completely wrong,’ Cas quickly adds, his confidence slipping from his face. ‘Then I apologi—’

‘Do you have a pen?’

The wide gummy smile that Dean remembers from the night before lights up Cas’ face.

‘I do,’ he says, and hands Dean a pen and a napkin.

Dean writes down his name and number as Cas makes his coffee.

‘I’m free all weekend,’ Dean says as he takes his coffee and the little box with his pie in it.

Cas takes the napkin, carefully folds it and puts it in the pocket of his jeans.

‘Not anymore,’ Cas smiles.