I'll Have The Usual: Part 3
The one where it rains and Dean is still mysterious ♥
Part 1, Part 2
The day Castiel finally gets that phone call he has secretly been waiting for is the kind of rainy day that tempts you to do absolutely nothing. It’s the kind of blissfully lazy day that beckons you to curl up in front of the television and watch movies, with a warm blanket draped over your legs and a small bowl of delicious, buttery popcorn seated in your lap. Cas absolutely loved rainy days like this, from the sound of droplets hitting his window to the gentle swaying of the tree branches below. And, to top things off, it was a Thursday, the day he didn’t have to go into work. There wasn’t a single thing that could keep him from just staying in his dorm room and spend all day watching science fiction movies, his guilty pleasure.
But all of his plans changed the moment his phone rang, the sudden sound of “I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons practically giving him a heart attack. Dean. No, he hadn’t assigned that ringtone to him for any particular reason, never.
He still was struggling to accept the fact Dean had his number in the first place. It had been a positively surreal moment, one he would’ve thought to be a figment of his imagination if not for the fact he’d pinched himself and felt a very real zip of pain travel up his arm.
It happened three days ago, a little over a week since Castiel had started his job at the little coffee shop. Dean had just been getting ready to leave, coffee in hand, when he suddenly froze.
"Wait," he cried, reaching into his pocket and pulling out one of his business cards and a pen, “before I leave…"
He set the card down on the counter and held out the pen in Cas’s direction, staring at him with those piercing emerald eyes and that damn smirk on his face.
"I know this is going to seem a little forward," he muttered, his voice shaking a little as if he were actually nervous, “but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving me your number?"
Castiel’s jaw dropped. What?
"You know, in case you’re not working, and I need you to come fix my drink since some guy fucked it up," Dean finished quickly, his face beginning to flush red.
Dean was getting flustered over him? Cas felt as if he were going to faint, the thought of the other man being able to call him making him much too anxious. What would he save his number under? Castiel? Cas? Or just “that guy from the coffee shop"?
He chuckled weakly and reached for the pen, relishing in the brief contact with Dean’s calloused fingers. Quickly, he scribbled down his cell phone number, thanking God that his shaky fingers didn’t keep him from writing. The entire time, he could feel the other man watching him, his mischievous smile and his curious stare.
"Here you go," Cas replied weakly, holding out the card with the most convincingly calm facial expression he could muster.
"Thanks," he chuckled softly, taking the piece of paper and slipping it back into his pocket, “I’ll see you then, Cas."
Dean’s eyes scanned over Castiel one more time, lingering on his face, before he turned and left. Cas couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. That was the moment he’d pinched himself, ignoring the way Gabe rolled his eyes as he passed by.
And now it was finally happening. The phone call.
Castiel stared down at the phone as if it were a venomous snake preparing to strike. If he could make it through this phone call without vomiting, he deserved a medal or something.
Hesitantly, he picked up the offending object and slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. “Hello?"
"Hey, Cas," Dean’s deep, husky voice answered, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything."
"No!" Cas cried all too quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment when he realized just how he must’ve sounded, “um no. I’m just sitting around my dorm room. Listening to the rain."
Dean chuckled softly, sending an excited shiver up Castiel’s spine. It was pathetic, really, how just a laugh could make his knees weak.
"You’re one of those guys who likes listening to storms," Dean replied, an almost affectionate tone to his voice, “I’m actually not that surprised. Well, I hate to keep you from enjoying mother nature alone in your room but it just so happens I’m at the cafe right now, ready to head to the bathroom so I can pour this sad excuse for an Americano down the toilet."
Cas smiled, imagining Dean standing over the toilet as he muttered insults about the bastard who had served him sludge instead of coffee.
"Of course," he laughed weakly, running his hands nervously through his ruffled hair, “I am the only guy working there that knows how to make a decent cup of coffee after all. Do you want me to come down and make you something that’s actually edible?"
"Well," Dean drawled, “if you wouldn’t mind. You seem pretty busy."
"Oh yes, very busy," he replied sarcastically, his smile growing wider with each word that escaped the other man’s mouth, “but I think I can spare a few minutes to come whip you up a real Americano."
"Well, it looks like I’m in luck! I’m so sorry for interrupting your busy day, but I’m sure I’ll figure out some way to make it up to you. I’ll see you in a few," he trilled before finishing softly, “bye, Cas."
And then just like that it was over. His first phone conversation with Dean Winchester. The only phone conversation capable of killing him and he had actually survived. Oh yeah, he deserved that medal alright.
The next few minutes left Castiel’s dorm room looking like it had been hit by an atom bomb. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the room, falling back to earth after being caught up in the chaotic tornado that was an anxious Cas. Jeans covered his floor, shirts were draped over his desk, a single shoe sat lonely on top of his television set. It was the pure definition of the word “mess".
In the middle of it all, Castiel stood staring at his recently clothed figure in the mirror. He had chosen his favorite pair of jeans, snug in just the right places but certainly not unbearably tight. He had decided to pair it with a simple blue-gray cotton shirt, the one he wore the most considering it was comfortable, loose-fitting, and matched the color of his eyes (or at least that’s what a girl in his class had once told him). He had also decided to leave his hair the way it was, recalling a comment he’d heard one of the football players make about girls loving the “just crawled out of bed" look. Of course, Dean wasn’t a girl…
He was going to be late if he kept analyzing every little detail like this! Dean was probably sitting alone, staring anxiously at the door and thinking of all of the different places he’d rather be. He probably was wondering why he had agreed to meet up with a waste of time like Cas.
Castiel threw open the door and quickly stepped through, slamming it shut in his haste to leave. This was his chance, maybe his only chance to show Dean Winchester how he really felt, and there was no way he was going to let himself fuck up a golden opportunity like that.
Three flights of stairs and two blocks of sidewalk was all that separated he and Dean. And Cas had never run faster in his entire life.
~~✿~~
There weren’t many people Castiel would run through the rain for. He loved this weather, sure, but he certainly wasn’t much of a runner. By the time he reached the coffee shop, dripping wet and slick with both rain and sweat, he felt as if he might just pass out from the exertion. Running that distance at a dead sprint wasn’t an easy task.
He stood in the doorway, scanning the room for Dean’s well-dressed figure. The coffee shop was usually quiet at this time of day, but on a day like today, it looked like a ghost town. Not many people enjoyed going out in the rain. Sitting quietly at a table near the back of the shop was the reason for all of Castiel’s anxiety. He was staring out the nearest window, a small smile on his face. From this angle, Cas was given a fantastic view of the man’s profile. He could make out the strong line of his jaw, the individual hairs of his impossibly long eyelashes, the little crinkles at the corner of his upturned lips. It was as if his face had been sculpted out of marble, the perfect visage of a living, breathing Greek god. And it was the face of the man who was waiting for him.
"Hey," Cas called hesitantly, still too afraid to leave his spot in the doorway. Dean immediately turned to look in the direction of his voice, his eyes wide as if he had been caught redhanded. The moment their eyes met, the bastard grinned like an excited child on Christmas morning.
"Hey," he called back, letting his eyes skim over Castiel’s soaking wet form, “still enjoying this weather?"
Cas chuckled softly and nodded his head. He wanted to give some kind of clever response, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. “Why don’t you come over here and sit down," he insisted, gesturing for him to come closer, “you look pretty tired."
Castiel swallowed nervously. Dean was right, he should probably sit down before his legs gave out. He shuffled over to where the other man sat, careful to avert his gaze as he took a seat.
Why had he agreed to this? How was he supposed to have a normal conversation with Dean if he couldn’t even bring himself to look at him?
"So," Dean sighed, “while I was waiting, I decided that I didn’t need another drink after all. I was kind of exaggerating when I said I wanted to dump it down the toilet."
Cas glanced up, finally meeting the other man’s piercing gaze. If only he didn’t always stare at him as if he were the most captivating thing in the world.
"Damn," Cas chuckled softly, “I ran all the way here for nothing." “Nothing? You think that having the chance to talk to me is nothing?" Dean cried, his tone mockingly hurt.
"No! I didn’t mean that at all!"
"Calm down, man," Dean soothed, “I was just kidding. I’m happy you’re here."
Another fucking smile. He was in such deep shit. “I thought we could just sit here and talk, seeing as the only things I know about you are that you know how to brew a damn good Americano and you live around here. If that’s alright with you?"
"Yeah, sure," Castiel mumbled, his cheeks flushing with embarassment. This was a dream, it had to be.
"So, Cas," Dean began, leaning forward in his seat and lessening the space between them, “what are you studying in college? I mean, I assume you go to the one a couple blocks away, right?"
Cas nodded, focusing intently on his clasped hands sitting on the table as opposed to the emerald eyes peering at him from across the table.
"I’m studying to become a computer engineer," he mumbled quickly. Every time he told someone the field he was going into, they would immediately assume he was a nerd. A freak.
Dean’s eyes widened. “Really? Wow, Cas the boy genuis."
Of course. How could he have ever believed that Dean would react any differently?
"No, all joking aside, that’s really impressive."
Castiel’s head shot up and his jaw dropped. That wasn’t disgust or scorn he detected in the other man’s voice. It was awe, something entirely new and surprising.
"I guess it’s considered a difficult field. I’ve just always been good with numbers. Math’s my thing," he replied softly, glancing over at Dean’s hands only inches away from his own.
"God, Cas, of course it’s a hard field! I always hated math. I’m more of a… well, law is more my thing."
"I figured," Castiel chuckled, “being a lawyer and everything. Did you always know that was what you wanted to be?"
Dean flinched, his lips twisting into a frown. Pain flashed in his eyes, as if Cas had just slapped him across the face. It was an awful sight, one he never wanted to experience again.
"It’s a long story," Dean growled, his voice so quiet that Cas nearly missed his reply. An awkward silence filled the room, the only sound being the whirring of the coffee machines behind the counter.
He had fucked up. In typical Castiel fashion, he had been given the perfect opportunity and had royally screwed it up. There had to be something he could do, something he could say, that would fix everything. He opened his mouth, ready to apologize when Dean gruffly interrupted. “I should probably get to work. Sammy’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long," he mumbled, standing up and grabbing his suit jacket from where it was draped across the back of his chair. He quickly threw it on, a frown still visible on his troubled face.
"Dean-"
"But first, I’m gonna walk you home," he interrupted, moving to stand next to Castiel’s seat.
"You don’t have to-"
"I want to," Dean declared, smiling weakly down at him. Cas slowly stood and pushed in his chair, surprised at how close the other man was standing. The soft brush of Dean’s fingers across the small of his back as he got to his feet gave him some comfort, the gesture almost seeming to convey a sense of forgiveness. Suddenly, Dean reached over and intertwined their fingers, his larger hand engulfing Castiel’s. His eyes widened, flicking between the other man’s hopeful gaze to their clasped hands. His instincts screamed at him to pull away, to end this right now before Dean realized just how strange and unappealing he was.
But when Dean grinned at him like that, there was no way he could possibly say “no". He could at least pretend like everything was going to be alright.
~~✿~~ The walk back to Castiel’s dorm was surprisingly quiet, an odd occurrence considering the way Dean seemed to love casual conversation. Occasionally, he would ask him about college life and the student body. They were simple questions, ranging from “What are the dorms like?" to “Who’s your favorite professor?" to “What are the parties like?"
Cas politely answered each question, pleased with the way he hid his wildly beating heart. However, the last question was definitely challenging to answer.
Should he tell him the truth? That he never attended parties because his social skills were for shit? Eventually, he settled on telling him an almost truth. He claimed they were wild events where alcohol filled everyone’s cups and people swayed drunkenly to the beat of loud, monotonous dance music.
Dean had chuckled and replied that that sounded about right. Score one for Cas!
When they finally reached the door to Castiel’s dorm, the rainfall had become more relentless, striking the sidewalk and converging into multiple puddles. Dean carefully led him along, laughing every time he accidentally stepped in a puddle and pulled his foot out while muttering a string of angry curses. No, it wasn’t funny.
Then, much too soon, there they stood. The doorway, the place Cas had come to associate with intimate moments between two lovers after the countless movies he had watched. And he was standing in that very spot with the most incredible person he’d ever encountered. The one person he’d be willing to share such a romantic moment with.
Dean moved so that only a few inches separated he and Castiel. He still held Cas’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he stepped closer. “I had fun," he whispered, “more fun than I’ve had in a while."
"Me too," Cas muttered, mustering up all of his confidence and meeting Dean’s hooded stare.
Castiel wished there was some way he could preserve the next couple seconds, when things were still so easy and happy.
Dean leaned in, raising his one hand to cradle Cas’s face. He swiped his thumb softly across the other boy’s cheek, savoring in the way he leaned into his touch. Gently, he pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel’s lips and pulled away.
It was brief, a fleeting touch that managed to leave Cas’s lips tingling as if he were pulling away from a more heated kiss. He wanted more, more of that endless warmth and anxious anticipation. His first kiss was the shortest one he would ever experience, but it would always be his favorite. “Goodbye, Cas," Dean whispered, squeezing his hand once more before letting go and turning to leave.
Castiel watched him go, umbrella held high and a slight jump in his step. He seemed so happy and yet Cas had no idea how anyone could be any more ecstatic than him.
He had been cold before, the chill of the rain that clung to his drenched clothes seeping into his skin. But now he felt as if he were standing on the surface of the Sun, heat spreading to every inch of his body.
That is, except for his one hand, left dangling at his side without Dean’s pleasantly tender grasp.
