Chapter Text
Heavenly Brews
Dean peers up at the cheerfully elegant sign of his favorite coffee shop. He clenches his fist a few times, trying to calm the jitters that are already creeping up even before he’s had his coffee. It’s absurd. He’s just entering his go-to coffee shop. No different than any other day.
Except it is.
Because last weekend, he met Mystery Hot Dude.
AKA Castiel Novak.
AKA, as chance will have it, Gabriel the owner’s brother.
Dean exhales sharply, releasing some of the frenetic energy buzzing under his skin.
He opens the door.
The space is the same as usual: large windows that keep the space bright and vibrant with sunlight, greenery that adds dashes of color to the space, Gabriel working the register and one other barista is working the espresso maker. There aren’t too many people in the coffee shop at this time of day — an awkward interval between breakfast and lunch. Dean glances around the seating area. His heart sinks when he doesn’t recognize anyone.
It shouldn’t be a surprise. Out of all the places they could have met that made sense, this is the one place that he’s never run into Castiel.
“Looking for someone, Batman?” Gabriel asks with a Cheshire grin. Dean wonders how close Castiel is with his brother. He can only assume that Gabriel knows about the party.
“Nope, just here for my coffee.” Dean plasters on a smile to reply.
“You sure about that? A little birdie told me that you might be reconsidering my offer involving a certain brother of mine.” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Dean groans. “Does your brother know you’re trying to set him up with random strangers?”
“Oh come on, now. It isn’t like you’re too random. Or even much of a stranger. I hear you’ve met multiple times now,” Gabriel says.
Heat rises to Dean’s cheeks, but he tries to play it off. “My life, your entertainment,” he says with a shrug. “Can I have my coffee now?”
Gabriel chuckles. “Whatever you say, kid.” He grabs a cup from the stack next to him, and winks at Dean. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what’s a good name for the coffee?”
Dean’s mouth is open, about to respond to Gabriel, when a familiar deep voice greets him from behind.
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean can hear his heartbeat pick up in his ears as he turns around. Castiel stands stiffly with his hands gripping the straps of his backpack. He’s wearing his necktie again, and Dean can tell it’s tied crooked even with the ends hidden under his bulky sweater. His eyes as blue as ever, now set on Dean with a shy curiosity as opposed to the previous shock and surprise.
“Castiel,” Dean breathes the name out. As familiar as Castiel’s voice has become, his name is still unfamiliar on his lips.
“I’m starting to think you’re following me,” Castiel deadpans.
Panic strikes Dean for a moment before he realizes that Castiel is joking. At least he thinks he is.
“Hey, I was here first,” Dean replies.
Castiel smiles, just a small uptick at the edge of his lips (Dean knew that he was joking). “You’re right, my apologies,” he says.
“Sooooo.” Gabriel’s voice is obnoxiously smug. “How do you spell that, Dean-o? D-E-E-N? Like the pornstar?”
Dean’s head could not swing back quicker. “What? No, D-E-A-N, like the non-porn version. What the fuck, man.”
“Right, sorry,” Gabriel apologizes, sounding the least sorry a man could ever sound. “Are you getting anything else? Any pastries today?”
“Uh, I’m getting his order, too,” Dean mutters, pointing at Castiel.
Castiel’s face breaks into a frown. “What? No, I can’t let you do that.”
“I fell on you, out of a tree,” Dean says, raising a finger. “Then I sneezed on you.” Another finger. “And I was an asshole about laughing at Sam.” A third. “Then you caught me on your frickin lap on the bus.” A fourth, followed by a fifth. “To top it all off, I took your pie filling. This is embarrassing now that I’m thinking about it all. But I owe you.” Dean can only be grateful that his offenses fit on one hand.
Thankfully, Castiel’s frown softens. Dean can almost hear a smile in his voice when he replies, “When you put it that way…”
“Oh-ho-hooooo we got a gentleman right here,” Gabriel hoots, determined to interrupt whatever moment that seemed to be building between Dean and Castiel. “Great job, Cassie. Got you a boy who pays on the first date.”
Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “I will call our parents and tell them about your trip to LA if you do not stop right now.”
“Cinnamon honey oat milk latte, coming right up.”
Gabriel rings them up at record speed.
Castiel flashes a satisfied smirk that only a younger brother who won an argument can flash. It’s a far contrast from the stoic expression that Dean’s used to seeing on the man, and his heart skips a beat at the playfulness of the look.
“Seems like you’ve got some serious dirt,” Dean says before he can say something embarrassing about Castiel’s smile instead. They make their way to the pick-up counter.
“Enough to make our conservative parents pull out of funding his upcoming wedding.”
“Gabriel’s getting married?” Dean asks. He also makes a mental note of Castiel’s conservative parents. If Gabriel is to be trusted (a big “if”), Castiel is interested in men. He wonders how those two details fit together.
Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You seem surprised.”
“A bit. No offense to your brother.” Dean winces; the offense is probably already made.
“None taken. He can be a handful,” Castiel huffs.
The sound of the steamer fills the short silence that settles between them. In an attempt not to blatantly stare at Castiel’s face, Dean turns his attention to the barista preparing their coffee.
“I still can’t believe he’s your brother and we’ve somehow never run into each other here,” Dean says.
Castiel nods. “Improbable, for sure.”
“So, Cas-tee-el,” Dean stumbles over Castiel’s name and frowns. “Can I call you Cas?”
Castiel stares at him, silent.
The piercing gaze has Dean wondering if he’s overstepped. He awkwardly mutters, “It’s okay if you’d rather I didn’t.”
“No, that’s fine,” Castiel responds. After a moment, he adds, “I think I enjoy it.”
Warmth creeps up Dean’s neck. “Yeah?”
Castiel nods. “Yeah.”
Dean breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “So, Cas.” Dean likes the way the name rolls off of his tongue. “Did you grow up nearby? Is that how you and Gabriel both ended up in Lawrence?”
Castiel — Cas — shakes his head. “No, we grew up in Illinois. I knew I wanted to go to school away from home, and it helped that Gabriel was already here.”
When their coffees come out, Dean glances over at Cas. Would it be too forward to invite him to sit together and continue their conversation?
“Thank you, again, for the coffee. You didn’t need to do that,” Cas says.
“Nah, I kind of did.” Dean flashes a grin. “Uh, what are you up to now?”
“I was about to sit and study.” Cas looks around the coffee shop. Dean’s eyes follow Cas’ fingers as they fidget with the knot of his necktie. Eventually, Cas asks, “Would you like to share a table?”
“Yeah,” Dean answers, a little too eagerly. He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. I was just going to work on an assignment, too.”
They settle into a table next to the large windows.
Dean observes Cas as he pulls out his chair. There’s a small crease between his brows like he’s concentrating on the task, but Dean is starting to think that’s just his standard look. As the sun hits his hair, Dean notices strands of dark brown mixed with the black. Dean’s mesmerized by how his hair seems to change color in different angles.
He must be staring too long, because the next thing he sees is Cas squinting at him with his head cocked to the side.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh, just, your hair. I always thought it was black, but there’s some brown mixed in there, too. It shows up in the sun.” Dean’s ready to sink into the ground. In what world is that a normal thing to say to a guy you barely know?
Thankfully, Cas seems unfazed. He cards his fingers through his hair (Dean’s eyes follow the movement closely), leaving it messier than usual.
“I’ve always considered it black, but I don’t see it in the sun often,” he says.
Dean nods. “Well, it looks nice.”
It looks nice? Great job, Dean, you sound like a complete dork. He’s still looking for that hole in the ground to swallow him.
Cas doesn’t respond, which is fair; Dean wouldn’t know how to respond to that either. An awkward silence falls between them, and Dean doesn’t know how to fill it. He opens up his book bag just to give himself something to do.
“What were you going to work on?” Cas asks, peering over the table to see what Dean’s pulling out.
“Uh—” Dean pulls out the first book his hand touches. It’s the book he picked up at the library the day he saw Cas (and convinced himself that Cas pretended not to see him, but Dean has been trying to forget that tiny detail).
Cas’ eyes light up. “Oh, I enjoyed that book. It was a helpful introduction to Human Sexuality. You aren’t in the major, are you?”
“No, just an elective. That lecture that got postponed was actually extra credit for the class,” Dean explains.
“Oh.” Cas’ shoulders drop a little.
“I was looking forward to it, though!” Dean is quick to add. “I checked out Dr. Barnes’ work when I saw that the lecture was on the extra credit list. It’s cool how she makes gender and sexuality so accessible. I never really knew anything about the topic until this semester.”
It seems like the right thing to say, because Cas immediately perks up again. “I’m in the major. With an additional certification in Gender, Law, and Policy,” he explains with an enthusiasm that Dean hasn’t seen from him before.
“Sounds impressive.” Dean takes a sip of his coffee, hoping to hide the way his lips stretch into a frown. He’s used to being surrounded by people smarter than him, but he can’t help the slight twinge of shame that creeps up.
“What do you study?” Cas asks.
“Accounting. Hoping to eventually help out at my uncle’s garage,” Dean replies. He watches closely to see how Cas responds. A sense of relief washes over him when he doesn’t detect any trace of judgement in his eyes.
“I’m often told I look like an accountant,” Cas says, matter-of-factly.
Dean laughs. He leans his elbow on the table and gets comfortable. “Maybe it’s the tie,” he teases.
Cas narrows his eyes as he glances down at his tie. “Balthazar has mentioned that it looks ‘dorky.’” He punctuates the word with exaggerated finger quotes, and Dean’s elbow almost slides off the table. It has Cas staring at him like he’s looking at some alien object.
“Sorry, just, the finger quotes,” Dean explains.
“They weren’t my words. I wanted to be accurate.” Cas tilts his head.
“Right, of course.” Dean brings his coffee back to his lips, this time hiding his smile.
Cas goes back to their original conversation. “Does your uncle own a garage in town?”
“Yeah, Singer’s Salvage. I work there part-time.”
“I imagine that takes a lot of your time. Balancing your studies with your work.” There’s a sincerity in Cas’ voice that makes Dean uneasy.
He shrugs off the feeling, along with the implied compliment. “Eh. I’ve been doing it a while.”
“Your uncle must be grateful,” Cas says, as if Dean is doing something noteworthy.
Dean grimaces. “It’s a family business, and Sam’s too smart to be stuck under the hood of a car.”
“And you aren’t?” Cas squints at him.
“I — no, Sam’s the one with the brains in our family,” Dean sputters. “Plus, I like working on cars. Always have.”
Cas nods. “It’s respectable work. I don’t know anything about cars, and would be completely lost if my car broke down.”
The tension in Dean’s shoulders eases as the conversation returns to more neutral territory. He chuckles. “That’s why you need friends like me.”
“Friends?” Cas asks.
It doesn’t seem like a denial, just a genuine question.
“I mean, yeah, well, I guess not exactly, but we’ve met, what, five times? And now we’re having coffee, so —” Dean’s cheeks heat up as his brain tries to string together an explanation.
“I don’t usually make friends very easily. I spend most of my time studying.” The thoughtful expression on Cas’ face doesn’t fade, but he nods. (A win in Dean’s book.)
“I can relate. That or work.” Dean glances down at the copy of Cruising Utopia on the table. “So what year are you?”
“A senior.”
“Nice. So you graduate after the spring? Then what? Any plans?” Dean asks.
Cas pauses. His gaze drops to the table and he spins his coffee cup a few times. “I’d like to stay in Lawrence. I’ve been speaking with one of my professors about a PhD program here.”
“But?”
“But.” Cas sighs. “My parents expect me to return to Illinois and join the family business.”
“What's the business?” Dean asks.
“They're in —” He pauses just long enough for Dean to take note. “—finance.”
“Sounds like a job for an accountant,” Dean quips with a grin.
“Are you insinuating that I'm not qualified for the role? If so, you'd be correct.” Cas raises an eyebrow. The subtle move accentuates his already sharp features.
Dean drops his gaze to the textbook on the table to avoid staring again. “So then why Gender and Sexuality Studies?”
Cas takes a long sip of his drink. His soft gaze drifts outside the window, and his blue eyes glimmer as they meet the sun. “I have a personal interest as a gay man, and I saw university as an opportunity to learn more about myself, away from my parent’s close watch.”
Dean’s fingers tighten around his mug at the confirmation of Cas’ sexuality. So Gabriel wasn’t completely fucking with him after all. “They aren’t the Gender and Sexuality Studies type?”
“Again, conservative parents,” Cas repeats. His lips twitch in what could be a smile.
“Ah.” Dean nods.
“I can’t imagine any of this is interesting to you.” Cas frowns. “I apologize, I’m not usually this talkative.”
The thought that Dean is able to pull out something rare from Cas has a tingly sensation creeping up his back. “No apologies needed, I asked. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. Sam tells me it’s a bad habit.”
Cas shakes his head. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“We can change the subject. Something light, like…” Dean pauses to think. “I dunno. Favorite movie?”
Cas’ lips stretch into a thin line. “I don’t watch many movies.”
“What do you mean?” Dean leans back in his seat, lifting the front legs of the chair. His brows furrow.
“My parents didn’t really want us watching TV or movies growing up,” Cas explains casually.
“At all?” Dean didn’t realize such a mundane topic could be such a landmine.
Cas shakes his head, but he doesn’t seem concerned by this obvious abnormality. He seems resigned to the fact. Like he’s had this conversation many, many times.
“Star Wars?”
Another shake of the head.
“Indiana Jones?”
No, again.
“Lord of the Rings?”
When Cas shakes his head no yet again, Dean clutches at his chest dramatically.
“You’re breaking my heart, man! These are classics,” he groans.
Cas sighs. “So I’ve been told.”
“Alright, so obviously you’re long overdue for a crash course in movies.” Dean leans forward across the table. A smile spreads across his face. “The good news is that I’m an expert.”
“What?” Cas blinks at him.
“What do you mean, ‘what?’” Dean pauses as the conversation catches up to him. “Oh shit, am I overstepping again?”
Cas takes a few seconds to reply, which is plenty of time for Dean to second guess himself. Is he being too much in his excitement of getting to know Cas? Embarrassment forms a heavy pit in his stomach.
But when Cas finally replies, his eyes are gentle. ”No, no I’d like that.”
Dean releases a sigh of relief. “Cool. Maybe one of these evenings if you’re free. What do you usually do in your free time?”
“I… study?” Cas tilts his head like he doesn’t understand the question.
“No, I meant in your free time,” Dean clarifies.
“I study,” Cas repeats.
“Dude.”
Dean thinks he detects pink in Cas’ cheeks.
“I told you. I don’t make friends easily.” Cas purses his lips (Dean can’t help but find it fucking adorable). “And my funding package has a GPA requirement, so I want to make sure I’m keeping up.” He sounds almost defensive as he brings up the final point.
“That’s fair.” Dean can relate to that. “Well, if you think you can afford to take a night off, I think we should start with Lord of the Rings.”
Cas grins (an actual smile that has him flashing his teeth), and it has Dean feeling like he’s hit the jackpot.
“Hey Dean!”
Dean’s about to open his mouth to solidify some plans, when he hears his name. He turns to see Garth, another community college transfer that he’s shared a few classes with.
“Hey, man. How’ve you been?” Dean stands to greet him properly,pulling him into a one-armed hug. After a few brief life updates, Dean realizes that he’s left Cas stranded in their conversation.
It doesn’t seem to bother Cas. Dean catches him fingering through the pages of Dean’s textbook, sipping leisurely on his latte as he waits.
“Sorry, I should introduce you guys. Garth, this is Cas. He’s — my friend, I guess.”
Cas looks up. He’s sporting an unreadable stare that has Dean second-guessing himself, but eventually turns his gaze to Garth.
“Nice to meet you, Garth.” He puts out his hand.
Garth shakes his hand with enthusiasm. “Pleasure’s all mine! A friend of Dean’s is a friend of mine.”
“That’s generous,” Cas replies without missing a beat. The monotone delivery has Dean thinking he’s completely serious.
Dean snorts.
“That’s just how it works with the Winchesters. They’re good people,” Garth says with a wide, easy smile.
The comment catches Dean off guard. He chuckles half-heartedly, scratching at the back of his head. Not that he’s complaining about Garth hyping him up to Cas.
Garth still hasn’t released Cas’ hand, but Cas doesn’t seem to care. He’s looking straight at Dean again.
“I’m starting to get that sense.”
Clouds begin to take over the sky a little over an hour later.
Dean doesn’t notice it at first, fully engrossed in his conversation with Cas. They both pulled out their laptops at one point, as if to remind themselves of their intention to study, but neither actually made any moves to end the conversation.
Mystery Hot Dude is somehow even hotter as Dean gets to know him. Though maybe “hotter” isn’t the exact word.
Cas is odd — he has a serious lack of pop culture knowledge (Dean can help with that), and he speaks with a formality that has Dean wondering if the guy is fucking with him. He also has a dry humor that Cas doesn’t seem to see himself. He’ll take everything at face value and respond accordingly, a trait that Dean imagines isn’t always seen as a positive, but that Dean finds earnest and endearing and unintentionally hilarious.
It’s only when the first raindrops hit the large window that Dean finally notices that the sun is no longer visible.
“Shit,” he mutters.
Cas follows his line of sight and sighs. “We’ve had such beautiful weather recently. I didn’t quite believe it when I saw it on the weather report.”
“The weather report? As in, on TV?” A mental image of Cas sitting down intently in front of a TV to watch the local news flashes across Dean’s brain. He must do a terrible job hiding his amusement, because Cas narrows his eyes.
“Yes, I find that they’re the most reliable when it comes to local weather,” he replies defensively.
Dean tries to keep a straight face, but can’t stop his lips from twitching. “I don’t think I’ve watched local news in years.”
“That’s unfortunate because if you did, you would have been prepared for the rain.” Cas leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with his own comeback.
“Touché.”
It’s clear that the rain is only going to get worse. The incoming clouds are a deep, stormy gray, and it looks like some thunder and lightning might be brewing as well.
“Damn. I wish I found a closer parking spot,” Dean says, keeping his eyes on the clouds.
“You didn’t take the bus?” Cas asks. There’s a bus stop only a block away from Heavenly Brews.
“Nah, I usually drive.”
Cas tucks his chin. “I had assumed, because of that one time you lost your balance in the bus.”
“Yeah, that, uh, that was a one time thing. Baby was in the shop,” Dean explains, doing his best to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. He could do without thinking about that incident ever again.
“Baby?” Cas asks.
“My car,” replies Dean, with an easy smile. “She’s a beaut. A ‘67 Chevy Impala, and still runs like a dream.”
Cas nods thoughtfully. “I can tell you care about… her, a lot.”
Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve had her for as long as I could drive.”
“How far away are you parked?” Cas asks.
“You need a ride?”
“No, thank you. I’m headed to the library. But the rain is only going to get worse. I have an umbrella, I could walk you to your car,” Cas suggests, peering back outside to where each raindrop has gotten louder against the window.
“You sure? That’s —” Sweet. “— I can just run if it’s too out of your way.”
“You have library books,” Cas says, as if it’s a completely acceptable explanation.
“The library books, of course,” Dean repeats.
Cas rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to damage them in the rain.”
“Right.” Dean laughs.
*****
They both pointedly ignore the far-too-pleased look Gabriel shoots them as the two leave the coffee shop together. Although Dean catches Cas glaring daggers at his brother as he closes the door behind them.
It’s pouring by the time they step outside; there aren’t many students out on the streets. Those who are outside are either running for cover or looking miserable with their umbrellas and rain jackets.
Cas pulls out a foldable umbrella from his backpack. It’s not the smallest umbrella Dean’s ever seen, but it isn’t large enough to comfortably fit two adult men. Dean’s questioning the logistics of it all as Cas opens it up and looks at him intently.
“Are you ready?”
Dean doesn’t have any real reason to say no. It’s either this or he runs through the rain and gets soaked. “Yeah,” he answers, and steps under the umbrella.
As expected, it’s a tight fit. Dean holds his bookbag close to his body to protect those library books Cas is so concerned about, but that makes the arrangement even more awkward. Cas is shorter than Dean, so his arm is lifted at an angle that can’t be comfortable for him. Most notably, there is no easy way for both of them to be under the umbrella without their shoulders touching. Warmth radiates from Cas, and Dean can’t help but lean into the comfort. He’s almost glad for how close they are — there’s no way Cas would see his red face.
“Let me hold the —” Dean awkwardly goes to grip the umbrella; his words falter when his fingers accidentally brush against Cas’. “Sorry, just, uh, I’m taller.” He shrugs.
Cas hesitates for a moment before handing Dean the umbrella.
The conversation stalls for the first time today. Dean tries to direct his focus on holding the umbrella without getting too up and personal in Cas’ space but keeping his books and shoulder as dry as possible (it’s practically impossible). They’re walking at a brisk pace to get out of the rain quickly, which makes sharing an umbrella even more difficult. The raindrops are heavy against the umbrella, plopping loudly with each drop, further highlighting the lack of conversation.
“Thanks for walking me to my car,” Dean says, just to break the silence. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and rain.
“It’s my pleasure,” Cas replies. His sincerity is comforting. After a short pause, he adds, “I’m very glad I ran into you today.”
Dean smiles. “Same. Would’ve hated to be the asshole who stole your apple pie filling forever.” He nudges Cas lightly where their shoulders touch.
“No, you still are,” Cas teases. “But it’s easier to forgive you for it, now that I’ve met you.”
“Officially.”
“Officially,” Cas repeats.
They’re only a couple blocks from Baby now, and Dean’s feet begin to slow. He doesn’t even notice it happening. Cas matches his pace without question.
“I’m serious about movie night.” Dean glances at Cas, whose eyes are glued to the puddle-riddled pavement.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Cas replies. Dean doesn’t miss the way the corners of his eyes soften. Not quite a smile, but Dean’s happy to call it a win.
“I’ll text you.”
They’re a block away. Dean hopes they get stuck at a red light.
“And the lecture?” Cas asks. “Did you still want to attend together?”
“Yeah, definitely. Helps to have someone to trade notes with.” Dean grins.
“I agree. I’ll text you to plan that as well.”
Dean laughs. “So I guess we’ll text at some point.”
They turn a corner, and the familiar black sheen of Baby comes into sight. Dean tilts his chin to gesture at her. “That’s my girl.”
“Oh. Well, this is goodbye, then,” Cas says, as they walk up to the car. He takes the umbrella back from Dean and holds it up high while Dean grabs his keys.
“For now,” Dean replies with a smile. “If our pattern holds, we’ll probably bump into each other in a few days.”
Cas’ lips twitch (another point for Dean). “You’re probably right.”
“And we’ll be texting,” Dean adds.
“Yes.” Cas nods earnestly. “As we’ve established.”
Dean can’t hold back his huff of laughter. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Cas. Thanks for the umbrella.” He hastily unlocks the car and jumps into the driver's seat.
As he scurries to close the door behind him, he hears Cas’ voice.
“Goodbye, Dean.”
Dean watches through the driver’s seat window as Cas’ rain-blurred figure turns and walks away. Something about the sight brings a smile to his face.
He lets out a sharp breath, releasing some of the bubbling excitement out with it, and turns on the ignition.
Charlie’s squeal fills the whole room.
“You didn’t tell me you ran into Castiel again!” She swats at Dean’s shoulder.
Monday evenings are usually set aside for “family dinner night” with Sam and Charlie (and occasionally some other friends who happen to be free that night). Tonight they’re at Charlie’s, and Sam is on dinner duty in the kitchen. It’s still raining outside, but Charlie's electro-pop bullshit drains out the sound.
“Ow, Charlie, cut it out!” Dean brushes her hand off. “I was getting coffee at Gabriel’s like usual after my morning class, and Cas just happened to —”
“Cas?! We’re on a nickname basis now?” Sam teases from the kitchen.
Dean sputters. “Wha — it’s just easier.”
“Aw, you’re blushing!” Charlie sing-songs.
Dean’s regretting ever telling either of them anything. “You’re blushing,” he retorts, knowing full well it makes no sense. As he sinks deeper into Charlie’s soft couch (as comfortable as it is, Dean thinks some of the abnormal softness is from a few broken springs), he feels his phone buzz in his back pocket. He digs it out and checks the name on the screen.
Castiel Novak
He must make some sort of face, because Charlie is on it like a hawk on its prey.
“Who is it?” she asks immediately.
“No one,” Dean tries, knowing that there’s no way she’ll back off.
“Dean Winchester, don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Fine! It’s Cas… tee-el,” he sounds off his name awkwardly.
Charlie’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “You can call him by his cute little nickname, I get it. You guys are friends now.”
“Shut up.” Dean peeks down at his phone.
Again, it was nice meeting you today. I am texting to confirm that we are going to the lecture together this week.
Dean can’t stop his huff of laughter. The dude is so formal even over text.
“Oh my god Dean you’re glowing!” Charlie gushes.
From over the counter, Dean hears Sam mutter, “Gross.” Dean glares at him.
Charlie, however, doesn’t seem to hear him. She continues, “I knew all those meet cutes couldn’t be for nothing! Clearly the universe is pushing for this.”
“Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I just met the guy.”
“I mean, you basically met him a hundred times,” Sam chimes in.
“Officially, I just met the guy,” Dean adds. He shifts his attention back to his phone.
Yeah. We can meet at HB and walk over together?
He doesn’t have to wait long for a response.
HB?
Heavenly Brews?
Of course. I will meet you at HB ☕️ We can decide on details as we get closer to the day 😀
Dean starts laughing at his phone. The multiple emojis are unexpected.
“Gross,” Sam reiterates. He’s carrying over plates of what looks like rabbit food.
“Not as gross as whatever is on that plate,” Dean counters.
Sam frowns. “You don’t need to eat it if you don’t want to.”
“I think it’s cute,” Charlie interjects. “I love the ‘every text makes me giddy’ phase. It’s so much fun. And dinner looks delicious, Sam, don’t listen to Dean.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” Sam says without breaking his pointed eye contact with Dean.
“Bitch,” Dean mutters. Sam still hears him.
“Jerk.”
Dean huffs and picks his phone back up.
Looking forward to it
👍🏻
Not even the rabbit food that Sam prepared (admittedly, it tastes a lot better than it looks) can wipe the smile off of Dean’s face.