Whenever they go out for coffee, Cas’s drink of choice is something indulgent like a mocha with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.
Dean always orders strong black coffee out of habit, because caffeine has always been keeping himself awake to drive all night, not for enjoyment. He’d never really thought about the fact he didn’t like the dark, bitter tang of it, just swallowed it down when it was still hot enough to scald his throat and kept driving. Drinking anything besides alcohol or coffee wasn’t an option anyway: when Dean was ten and tried to order a hot chocolate like Sammy, his Dad had sneered at him and said real men didn’t drink girly shit like that.
It starts quietly, like all revolutions. On a whim one morning, Dean steals a spoonful of froth from the top of Cas’s drink purely to annoy him - but he finds something about the soft, sugary sweetness of it addictive (maybe because it reminds him of Cas’s kisses). He starts doing it every time they go out, sometimes more than one spoonful of cream, sometimes a quick, brazen gulp of the warm, sweet liquid underneath.
Sometimes he does it deliberately right in front of Cas with a cheeky, what-you-going-to-do-about-it grin; sometimes he invents outlandish distractions so that Cas will look away, leaving him to childishly spoon cream and chocolate sprinkles into his mouth as fast as he can.
Cas is a thousand year old celestial being, he knows damn well when someone is stealing his caffeine, but he keeps up the charade because he loves watching the quiet, secret pleasure on Dean’s face when he takes a sip, like he never knew life could taste like this. Sometimes it leaves a tiny blob of foam on Dean’s freckled nose that Cas doesn’t tell him about because it makes him look beautiful in ways he’d never allow himself to look.
Cas loves how happy Dean looks across the table from him on those mornings, loves knowing that their mouths taste the same and the intimacy of it that would once have seemed so impossible. He loves how Dean gets bolder with it, drinks a little more each time, catches Cas’s eyes and smiles, stops trying to hide the enjoyment that shines quietly in his gaze.
More than anything, Cas loves that Dean can do this with him, that he feels free to break all his old rules; that he’s learning he deserves to have things in life just because they make him happy.
The day the waitress asks what they’re having and Dean says, “two mochas with whipped cream” and gives Cas a wink, Cas feels like his heart could burst with pride. When they kiss later, its warm and sugary and tastes of freedom, of pure, wonderful happiness.
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