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Published:
2019-01-20
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749
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1/1
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One Down, Four Letters

Summary:

Flirting through a cross word puzzle might not be the most conventional, but they make it work.

Notes:

Written for some kind of writing meme or other. Originally written Aug 2014, cross posted from tumblr.

Work Text:

Dean settles in at his usual table at Bean Me Up, Scotty and eagerly reaches for the newspaper that was left behind, flipping through the pages until he finds the crossword puzzle. 

It’s already semi filled in, in the tell tale red ink Dean has come to recognize, but as he reads over the answers Dean shakes his head. It appears the man who began the crossword puzzle before him is not a pop culture connoisseur.

As Dean waits for his coffee order he begins filling in the missing answers. 

“You know, one of these days you could just come in earlier and actually meet McDreamy instead of flirting with him via crossword puzzle,” Charlie pipes in from above him as she sets Dean’s coffee on the table.

“I’m not flirting,” he counters, not bothering to look up.

Charlie drops herself into the chair across from him. “No?” She asks, “Because he’s been leaving his crosswords for you to finish for close to a month now, always with a ‘Give Dean my best’ and this weird little smile.”

“He says that?” Dean asks, finally looking up from the crossword puzzle.

Charlie nods and Dean smiles.

He thinks about the dark headed professor whom he’s never actually exchanged words with, but has formed some strange bond with by finishing the guys crossword puzzles three times a week. It all started several weeks ago when Dean found a forgotten newspaper left behind on his usual table and took the liberties of finishing up the crossword puzzle that had already been mostly filled out. He had no idea who the newspaper belonged to, but when Charlie informed him it was the same guy Dean had been oogling in passing for weeks on end, a sense of satisfaction had grown in Dean. 

“His name is Castiel,” she’d told him, “he’s an art professor down at KU and he sits at ‘your’ table for about an hour right before you get here.”

She must have said something to Castiel too because after the first crossword puzzle there was one left for Dean more often than not.

“So he knows my name,” Dean points out as he fills in another set of boxes.

“Name, occupation, age,” Charlie rambles, “he asks a lot of questions about you.”

“I’d say that’s creepy, but-” Dean offers Charlie a shrug and begins to read through the remaining questions. But he’s hot and can ask anything he wants. He tells himself silently.

“I think you’re both creepy and one of you just needs to grow a pair,” Charlie states. She stands from the table and walks off to help other customers, missing the shake of his head Dean offers her as she leaves.

As he sips at his coffee, Charlie’s words echo inside Dean’s brain. If Castiel does ask about Dean like Charlie says he does, perhaps Dean’s crush isn’t all that one sided after all. 

He stares down at the crossword and the few remaining boxes that have yet to be filled in and mulls over that fact until the coffee shop is closing and it’s time for him to leave. 

When Dean returns the next day he immediately goes for the newspaper that’s been left behind for him. When he opens to the correct page and looks down at the crossword puzzle though, the answers that have already been filled in catch him off guard. 

There in Castiel’s usual red ink are the words;

D E A N   I D   L I K E   T O   B U Y   Y O U   C O F F E E

followed by Castiel’s phone number.

Dean looks up to find Charlie smiling at him from behind the counter and throwing a thumbs up in his direction. 

With trembling fingers Dean pulls out his phone and dials the number the professor left behind. If this is some kind of cruel joke Charlie’s trying to play on him he’s going to steal her One Ring and sell it on eBay for $10. 

As the phone rings, Dean’s heart hammers in his chest.

When a gravely voice sounds across the line with a short, “Hello?” Dean isn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified; both are racing through him and he feels a little dizzy.

“Cas?” Dean asks, wincing at the nickname he’s been using for the other man for some time now.

There’s a brief pause, and then Dean slumps into his seat when that beautiful, perfect, gravely voice responds, “Hello, Dean.”