#aggiedoll

He cleared his throat.

“Hi.” Great work, Winchester. Thankfully, it was considered more socially acceptable to stare into someone’s eyes, so Dean did just that, gazing into the deep blue he found there, letting himself drown in it. There was some trepidation there and distrust and Dean really needed to tell the guy why he was there and maybe try and convince him that he was not in fact a creep.

“Uh. I think you still have my jacket?” he asked. It wasn’t really a question.

Those eyes were very, very blue.

Instead of answering, Cas turned around and came back a few seconds later, holding the green jacket in his hand.

Dean took it, trying to think of what to say next.

Usually, he was quick on his feet, always had some remark or joke up his sleeve, but now he stood there empty-handed, searching desperately for a way to help the situation.

“So. How do you like Lawrence so far?” he settled on.

Cas forced a smile. “It is nice. Although I haven’t seen much of it yet.”

“No? Well how ‘bout we fix that? I’m kinda dead today, but what do you say to tomorrow and lunch at two? I know the best burger place in town.”

Cas seemed to mull it over, leaving Dean sweating on the doorstep.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d make for good company.”

“Nonsense. Look, you’re new and I really don’t mind showing you around. I’ve been wanting to go for a while, but I never seem to make the time. You’d be doing me a favor too, actually.” Plus I’ve been avoiding all the other people in my life and I’m gonna go insane unless I talk to someone other than my brother and Bobby.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely."

“Cas?”

The word emerges as a croak, shaky and scraped, but really, Dean thinks, it’s a miracle he’s managed to say anything at all.

Twelve years. Twelve long, lonely years of nothing but nameless warm bodies in his bed to help him forget the memory of those blue eyes. Those same blue eyes are staring back at him out of a face that’s got a few more lines carved into it, but is still so familiar that every muscle in Dean’s body aches with the need to touch it.

“What are you doing here?” Cas asks, his throaty rumble even deeper than Dean remembered. From anyone else, the question would seem rude. From Cas, it’s an expression of genuine curiosity, an invitation to sit and talk. That’s just the way he is. Or used to be, when Dean knew him.

Where does he even begin?

“I, um.” Dean realizes he’s still frozen just beyond the doorway to the coffee shop, clutching a mug in one hand and a small plate in the other. “I’m here for a job interview.”

Cas’ eyebrows rise to meet his hairline. He’s made more of an effort to tame his bedhead than he used to, back in college, but it’s still a lost cause, random dark strands sticking out all over the place. Dean clenches his jaw to keep from asking if he can smooth them down.

“A job interview?” Cas says, with that familiar, puzzled head tilt of his. “Here?”

Before Dean has a chance to respond, Cas looks back and forth between Dean and his table, an embarrassed tint to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I’m being rude. Please, have a seat.” He falters, eyes darting to Dean’s face, then back down. “If you like, I mean.”

If you don’t show, I’ll know why, and I just want to say, I get it.

The line pops into Dean's head out of nowhere. He worked on that letter for hours, polishing every word, and it still comes back to him at odd times.

“Uh. Sure.” He swallows down the memory as he lowers himself into the chair opposite Cas.

It’s been twelve years. If Cas wants to sit here and catch up like they’re nothing but old college friends who lost touch, Dean can do that. He will do that.

No one seemed to notice Cas, so he quickly ran to the kitchen, relieved that he wouldn’t have to socialize. He opened one of the high cupboards, looking for bread to prepare a sandwich.

“If you’re looking for the pizza, there are still some pieces of it in the living room, but you better hurry up, we just began to eat the last one!”

Cas startled, bumping his head on the door of the cupboard that was still open.

"Ouch," he grunted before quickly turning around.

The guy from the couch was standing in the kitchen doorway, two empty bottles of beer in his hands. Cas brought his hand to his head, rubbing his skull, grimacing a little with pain. The guy quickly put the bottles on the table and reached towards Cas.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to startle you! Are you alright?”

He raised his hands towards Cas’s head, before stopping his gesture, uncertain. They looked at each other, the guy trying to probe Cas’s expression, as Cas was trying to come to his senses. He’d never seen that boy before, he wasn’t one of Balthazar’s usual friends. Cas dropped the hand that was still on his skull and brushed past the boy’s shoulder. That’s how they both realized how close to each other they were standing, and the guy took a step back. He was still looking at Cas.

“Are you okay?” he repeated.  

Cas blinked.

“Ye… Yes, I think so.”

“Good. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would hit your head…”

“No… No worries, I’m still half asleep, it’s not your fault.”

The guy smiled.

“Oh yeah, that explains the bed hair.”

Cas blushed and ran a hand through his hair, looking at his feet, suddenly aware of his sleeping outfit: an old, worn shirt, plain sweatpants, and bare feet. He usually liked wearing button-down shirts, fancy crew-neck pullovers, or nice polo shirts, even when he was with his friends, and he almost felt naked. In comparison, the guy was wearing a casual outfit, nothing fancy, but it made him look cool and at ease: blue jeans with an open plaid shirt over a dark t-shirt. He was wearing a metal pendant hanging from a leather string, and Cas wondered briefly what it represented.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d run into anyone… Which was stupid, because obviously I knew you were all here, and I…” Cas began to say, very embarrassed.

“Hey, it’s cool, man”, the guy interrupted him. “Don’t worry, it looks good on you.” He winked and Cas felt himself blushing furiously.

“You must be Balthazar's roommate?”

“Yes. I’m Castiel.”

The guy frowned. “Castiel?”

“Maybe Balthazar referred to me as “Cas”? That’s what my friends call me”.

“”Cas” sounds right”, the guy nodded. “I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you!”.