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Dean sat at his desk and raised an eyebrow at his computer screen.
"Seriously?" He shook his head and braced his fingertips on the keyboard before taking a deep breath and typing.
*No, @ngel I don't recommend eating six day old Chinese takeout leftovers. Thank you for your question.*
He huffed and scrolled to his next member comment and easily tapped out an answer to their question.
*@alec, disaster gay, if you have picky eaters with a sweet tooth then honey is the way to go. You can marinade chicken and pork in it, or use it in a glaze for salmon. I'll pin a link for the honey recipe section (that's right, it even has its own page!) in #resources for you to try some. Good luck, thank you for your question.*
The bottom bar lit up with 'several people typing' and the reaction hearts shot up quickly. Hmm, honey seemed to be a hit. He'd have to do a stream featuring it soon. Shit, he'd probably have to buy some. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had it, since before Sam had a rant about commercialised farming anyway. His little brother had convinced him to include a segment about ethical eating on his show-slash-server-slash-website and, much to his annoyance and Sam's delight, it had proved to be a huge success. In fact, his very next question was about using local honey for both allergy relief, and sustainability. That was a new one on Dean so he dutifully scribbled a note and promised to deliver a piece on it soon.
The sprint timer chimed in at the hour to mark the end of his 'Q&A' session so he made his thanks and farewells, and retreated to the mod channel to lurk with Charlie and Ash.
*That wasn't so bad. Thanks for keeping up with the other channels. Any problems?*
queen
Nope. All good! ✌️
dr badass
<fine dude>
*alrighty, I'm heading to bed. Still on for the farmers market @queen? Sammy's coming.
-Hells yes! See you at ten. ♥️-
<🤘>
Dean slid back on his wheely chair, grabbing his phone. Okay, note to self…investigate local honey, open up 'Q&A' early tomorrow as promised, update website, (providing honey research goes well) do a show around beekeeping…"shit, what was that called again?" he mumbled to his empty apartment. Ape-something? Remember to ask Google, or Sam if we run out of shit to talk about.
He added a post-it note to the others on his desk to remind him of the reminder.
He stretched and threw the phone down on his bed, the memory foam absorbing the momentum. (He'd lost too many phones via his older, and bouncier, mattress.) Brushed his teeth, took a piss then washed his hands and face. Despite being alone, he looked around furtively then pulled a small glass jar out of a drawer. Another glance around as he carefully unscrewed the jar and gently dabbed some of the pricey moisturiser on his crows feet laugh lines. Job done and the jar hidden away, he finally made it to bed.
***
Bitching at the alarm for doing its job, Dean rubbed his face, stretched and started his morning. His phone had more notifications than he had spoons so he ignored it for now and headed coffee-ward.
He spent an hour or so investigating local apiaries (his ape-something suspicion correct), updated his website and started on answering his DM's. He only accepted messages from friends and he had his mentions off so it was mostly memes and Charlie reminding him to do shit.
Ten o'clock came around too soon and, with canvas totes in hand, he hurried to meet Charlie and Sam at his car.
***
It was a beautiful day for meandering around, and the market was busy. As each stall had a few people deep, Dean directed a divide and conquer technique, sending Sam off to grab veg and dairy while he took care of proteins. Charlie had already disappeared to find her favorite sustainable clothing stand and Dean had a sneaky suspicion it wasn't just the clean NeoPigment and fair trade cotton that attracted her but the particularly beautiful vendor.
After about half an hour, Dean spotted his brother waiting to buy the honey he'd sent him for. He knew that Sam would have a better go at gathering information as his childlike thirst for knowledge was usually disarming enough to bleed the hardest of stones.
By the look of it though, a fellow customer was talking his ear off and Dean shuffled closer to see them. Oh. Oh. Dark hair, tan, tall, muscled. Very nice. Unfortunately 'very nice' usually turned Dean into a complete idiot so—as he didn't have time to be a complete idiot today—he kept his distance and would meet up with Sam after for his (no doubt very thorough) report on honey production.
***
After waving off a very excitable Charlie, Dean dragged Sam back to his apartment for a decent meal. He knew he'd been working too hard and couldn't cook worth a damn so he decided he'd film the honey segment and make Sam dinner at the same time. Dean shoved his brother down into his easy chair and forced the remote into his hand.
"Sammy, I insist you sit and watch crap for at least two hours. I'mma go write something up from your notes, set the gear up then start dinner. Okay? Okay." Without waiting for a reply, Dean retreated to his combination office and studio to write.
***
"Hi everyone, thanks for watching! Because we were talking about honey in the server yesterday, I'm going to make a salmon dish in real time for ya, while giving you a little info on sustainability and apiarism."
Dean did his thing, live streaming the show from his very well appointed kitchen, ate dinner with Sam, threw him out to go home and study, updated the website again and logged on to discord for 'Q&A'.
It was a lot harder work being an amateur Martha Stewart than he'd expected but he made enough money to get by on without getting his hands too dirty so he considered it a pretty good deal and he enjoyed the interaction with his subscribers.
*yes, @hefe, you can substitute a bread pizza base with a cauliflower dough. I've pinned a link to a fave recipe in #resources for you. Thanks for your question.*
*haha, thanks @yuppp, I get it, I do. Having the time and energy for holidays is rare but if you plan, plan, plan, it makes life so much easier. I've got a bullet journal tutorial pinned somewhere in #resources to make list making fun. Stick around in #lifehacks for any tips from other members and good luck!*
Okay, so that may have been a bit of a cop out of an answer but there's a whole server room for getting your shit together (and about a million videos on his YouTube channel) so even just lurking in there would be more helpful than anything he could say right now.
He scrolled a bit, answering a few more questions. Someone was having trouble with their VW Beetle and Lord knows he'd worked on Charlie's enough to know it like the back of his hand so he diagnosed a snapped clutch cable, and ordered the owner to a mechanic immediately. It was times like this he missed working at Singer Auto and Salvage, he would love to get his hands on an engine right about now. He scribbled a note to do another auto repair video soon.
*@coffeeandcream great question! We all know that we should hand wash delicates but, tbh, who the hell has time?
So, the best thing you can do is put a couple of your lacy things in a mesh bag, wash on a low temp and, preferably, only wash similar things together, but again, who has time for multiple rounds of washing, or enough delicates for a whole load! It would be pretty wasteful too, so just don't wash with bulky stuff, like jeans or hoodies and y'all should be okay. Thank you for your question.*
*oh, and DO NOT put them in the dryer! Hang them up to dry and, if you've got space, store them on hangers.*
*(If you're lucky enough to have some La Perla or similar, then for the love of god, please just hand-wash it with a mild detergent, rinse and hang. Be gentle with the good shit, lingerie wearing people!)*
He huffed a laugh at the next one before answering.
*@ngel the best before date on most foods, especially processed food, is pretty flexible. However, I do not recommend eating meat past its best. Chicken in particular can contain nasty bacteria. Not worth eating out of date wings! If it's sandwich fillings like ham, give it a sniff. If it has a discernible smell, chuck it. Thank you for your question.*
Dean was beginning to worry about that particular member. He hoped they weren't poisoning themselves outside of 'Q&A' sessions. He switched to his phone to let autocorrect save his ass when he had to type quickly and so that he could get on with Adulting.
Ironically, it was while he was cleaning out his fridge that he received a few pings in a row, somehow managing to sound frantic. @ngel again.
Oh for…Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and answered.
*@ngel I really don't recommend eating sausages that have been outside for 'a while'. I don't know what you mean by 'a while' but any time food is out unattended is an opportunity for flies and other bugs to do their gross thing.*
*I don't know where you live but the temp here isn't ideal for food storage either.*
After receiving a thanks and no less than six thumbs up emoji, Dean slipped the phone back in his pocket as he dumped out the contents of his crisper. He couldn't really talk, considering how much junk had accumulated in his fridge, but he'd been busy! He'd bought a bunch of extra for shows but hadn't really had the energy to pre-record too much.
Another ping. He checked the time. Just under the wire.
*@ngel, I assume you're rooting around in your fridge for something to replace the sausages? The chicken you've got should be okay and I hope I don't have to tell you to cook it thoroughly. (until the juices run clear and there's no pink in the middle)*
Dean tapped his phone against his chin, thinking about—worrying about—that last question. Who doesn't know how to cook chicken? It's adult cooking 101 surely?
Okay, he may regret this but he can always block them if they get weird, right? He poked around in their profile, not much there, 21+, CST…oh, he/him, that's handy to know, and he was currently listening to David Bowie, nice!
Charlie would probably kill him but he didn't want this guy's cooking to kill someone else first so he took a deep breath and hit the add friend button.
***
**Hello, Dean.**
Dean squinted at the simple greeting, the light from even the dark theme blinding him so early. He rubbed his eyes and lurched onto his back, worming up the bed to prop himself up on an elbow, phone offset to keep his thumbs in contact.
*Hey, @ngel* he grimaced at the username, it seemed so intimate. *How are you? You're up early.*
**I am a teacher. Demon teens wait for no man.**
Dean snorted. Shit, he wouldn't want that job. He loved kids but, generally, in more of the 'fun yet supportive uncle' role.
*yikes! Sounds rough. Anything I can help you with?*
**Yes, well, I was curious why you added me?**
Ah. Dean didn't know how to answer that without coming across as patronising or insulting. He tucked his face into the crook of his elbow to think.
*Just reaching out to loyal viewers.* he winced. That seems pretty flimsy…
**hmm…okay.** Oh, maybe not.
*Hey, is there something I can call you other than @ngel? Feels a bit…pet namey.*
**Of course, my name is Cas.**
*Alright Cas. Hmu if you need anything.*
**I will. Thank you, Dean.*
***
Dean's head had literally just hit the pillow when his phone chimed. He rolled over and squinted at his phone, seeing it was Cas intensified the feeling of deja vu, making him huff a laugh.
**Sorry to bother you so late but how long can I leave my laundry in the machine before I'd need to wash it again?**
He smiled despite himself. This guy cannot be real.
*S'ok! I feel like I'm repeating myself but, if in doubt, give it a sniff! If it still smells like your detergent and not 'mustily wet' then you're probably good. Six hours-ish.*
He paused for a second considering his own laundry status. Shit. He pulled himself out of bed, and headed to his full washer. He tapped out another message in the way.
*Give each item a shake out before hanging up/putting in the dryer. Btw, you reminded me about my own laundry! Thanks.*
**haha! I'm very glad to be of assistance. I hope yours hasn't been in as long as mine. I have decided to restart the machine. 😬**
*
*
Dean let out a full bellied laugh while in his underwear in his kitchen.
*Thanks, man, I needed that laugh.*
Cas sent back a really dorky picture of Pee Wee Herman with both thumbs up and Dean laughed again.
Once his clothes were in the dryer, he settled back in bed, thumbs ready to tell this guy just how ridiculous that picture was, and express how happy he was that they were both old enough to know who Pee Wee Herman was.
Dean yawned widely and glanced at the time. Crap! He'd been chatting to Cas for over an hour, which in itself wasn't a bad thing but he had to get up early in the morning and he had already been pushing it.
*I'm sorry, buddy. I gotta go to sleep or I'll be useless tomorrow.*
**Oh! I hadn't noticed how late it had gotten! Apologies. Thank you for your advice. I very much enjoyed our talk.**
Dean snorted.
*Me too, dork. Catch you later.*
*
*
**jk, good night, Dean.**
Dean snorted again, tossed his phone aside and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
***
"Dean? Hey! DEAN!"
Dean let out a half snore and glared at his brother.
"Wha-th'fuck, smm, m'sleepin'" He rubbed his eyes before defending himself against huh Sam's giant hands poking him in the ribs. "Dude, what!?"
"Remember you said you'd take me over to the library? I have an appointment." Sam huffed.
Right, right, the library. Okay. He pulled his most awake brain cells into formation and swung his feet out to the floor.
"Whatever, I'm getting up. Gimme ten."
Sam threw him a bitch face. "You have five." He stormed out like the little bitch he was and Dean groaned. Fuck, it was early. He texted Sam a coffee emoji and headed to his dresser. He didn't need to look fancy if he was just dropping Sammy off so he shoved on yesterday's shirt and jeans. After a quick brush and piss (at the same time, thank you very much. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester can't multi task) he headed downstairs. Sam intercepted him with a travel mug and pushed him out the door.
Despite his earlier plan of staying in the car, Dean realised he could do a bit of research. Sam was always extolling the virtues of a decent community library so he headed in to take a look at the sorta stuff he could get up to. A huge bulletin board served as a divider between the entrance and exit doorways so Dean started there. He saw notices for music lessons, parent and baby groups, sexual health clinics, even things for sale. His eye caught on a flyer for an adult learning annex run within the library. The nature of his 'brand' was to learn so he made a note to point this feature out to his knowledge hungry viewers. He dawdled for a bit, checked out the computers lining one wall, each in its own cubby. There were desks scattered between the shelves and one corner was overstuffed with brightly colored posters and bunting. About half an hour of poking about later he looked up at the sound of his brothers voice. Dean assumed the man Sam was shaking hands with was the librarian so he hung back, not wanting to embarrass him in his ratty clothes. He did get closer though—being nosey and all—to see the guy that had Sam grinning so widely.
The man turned slightly and Dean was tickled by a vague recollection. He was pretty hot, dark hair, tall, tan…very nice. Wait. The guy from the farmers market! Small world, smaller town. He ducked behind a stack and waited a few moments before circling round to meet Sam at the car.
After a long journey of Sam waxing lyrical about the research help he'd gotten from—not the librarian but—his civics professor, Dean was looking forward to getting online as he got the warm and fuzzies just thinking about maybe catching Cas again. Luck must be on his side when he logged on, as Cas' wings icon bore a green dot beside it.
*Hey, Cas. What're you up to?*
**Hello, Dean. I'm in my office, hiding from co-workers. I've been working off site today so I'm happy to be 'home'.**
***
And so it goes. Days turned into weeks and still Dean found it was easy to make small talk, and even easier to get into the bigger stuff. Dean found himself telling Cas things he hadn't even told Charlie. The anonymity meant he could really lay himself bare and it seemed Cas felt the same way.
They'd had similar upbringings, the same sort of values but different interests. He was funny as all get out, too. The time slipped by again, Dean only noticed it passing by realising the room was dark.
He felt bad, and oddly morose, that he had to bail again but he hadn't done anything he should have done that day and it was getting late.
*Dude, we have to stop doing this! Lol Speak later, angel?*
**Of course.**
Dean smiled at that. Cas said it so often, said it when Dean asked him if he could keep a secret, said it when Dean asked him a favour, or when he told him his outrageous head canons about the various TV shows they had both been watching while chatting. It was his default phrase that could mean anything from 'okay, Dean, whatever you say' to, maybe even, 'I'd do anything for you, Dean.' Which is wishful thinking of the highest order on Dean's part but a nice little fantasy all the same.
As was the usual these days, after a long DM with Cas, Dean put his phone aside with a sigh, hugged his pillow and fell asleep smiling.
***
Bobby picked up on about the ninetieth ring, his old land-line being as far away from his favorite bay as possible. Dean knew he'd be there though, before everyone else, working on something or other.
"Yeah?" Bobby's gruff voice holding no warmth this early in the morning.
"Hey, Bobby. You free?" Dean learned a long time ago that Singer's and Winchester's didn't respond well to 'how are you?' so he didn't bother. If Bobby had a problem, he'd tell him through the lens of mechanics. Toxic masculinity for the win. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Jus' workin' on an old Lincoln. What's up?"
"A Lincoln, huh? What year?" Dean hedged, hoping it was pre-80's.
"'78 Continental."
Bingo.
"Say, Bobby, how's about you let me have a go at that one? I'm gonna do an episode on older car maintenance." Dean kept quiet as his old boss grumbled to himself.
"Yeah, why not? Gotta get 'er done today, though." Bobby hung up before waiting for an answer, confident Dean would be at the garage within the hour.
That morning, Dean had gone through the haphazard notes that scattered his desk, little ideas he had every so often and, because 'car maintenance' was underlined a few times, he'd made the call and was thrilled Bobby had a car for him.
Dean grabbed his film gear and, after a quick once over in the hall mirror, hurried to his car. Forty minutes later found him bent over the engine of a gold '78 Lincoln Continental Mark V, poking around at the various patches of rust and grime. Fortunately, none of the patches poked through, so he set himself up to do a full tune up on camera. The car was only in for an oil change but he'd do this for free and just hope the owner would sign off on him using it in his video.
Bobby interrupted with a soda now and again, and a few of the older mechanics greeted him warmly. He was included in the noon sandwich run, and after enjoying a ridiculously overstuffed sub with grease still under his nails, he could almost say he missed this. Almost. His back hurt and he'd have to really scrub the shop smell out of his hair so he maybe shouldn't let nostalgia get the better of him just yet.
After lunch, Dean finished up the car by giving it a quick wash and polish. He had six hours of raw footage to go through later but he was pretty happy he got a few good teachable moments in there.
Bobby whistled over the din of the shop and Dean glanced up, ambling over to the office when beckoned to find Bobby talking to a well dressed guy. Suit, overcoat, and combed-down hair. The only thing spoiling the theme of uptight businessman was the battered leather briefcase at his feet.
"Dean, come meet Mr Novak. It's his car."
The man turned to reveal the hot guy that he's been seeing all over town. He paused and swallowed harshly, and, attempting to tamp down the sheer panic of meeting an attractive man, Dean stuck out his hand and shot him a polite smile, defaulting to the safety of customer service mode.
"Hi, Dean Winchester. Has Bobby explained why I had my greasy mitts under your hood?"
Now that Dean was a bit calmer, he noted that this Mr Novak had a certain 'deer in headlights' quality and that he hadn't seemed to notice Dean's hand hovering in front of him. Bobby cleared his throat and both men jumped, looking around sheepishly.
"Hello, Dean. Um, yes, he mentioned your show and I'm happy to help."
Dean stared. Uh, oh, deep voice. Shit. He tried to pull himself together as he got lost in this guy's eyes again but it seemed they both had the same problem. He was dimly aware of Bobby scoffing as he shook his head and wandered off but right—
"Castiel!" The man blurted, interrupting Dean's inner monologue and way too loud for the small office.
"Excuse me?" Bless you?
"My name. It's Castiel. As opposed to Mr. Novak." He was blushing furiously which was endearing as all hell but he took pity and gestured to the car.
"Alright, Castiel." Dean said slowly, rounding out the syllables, feeling a smirk on the 'el.' "Come see what we've done to the old girl."
Dean dawdled to keep pace with Castiel as they crossed the shop floor. Closer than strangers ought to be really.
The hood of the car stood open and Dean was proud to say the engine gleamed under his camera light. He pointed out a few repairs he'd made and some spots that would need cleaning more often.
Smooth as ever, Dean stuttered to a halt, caught up again as Castiel glanced up at him from where he was leaning over the engine. Blue eyes under dark lashes, against the guts of a classic car had warmth pooling in Dean's stomach.
"So, uh, Castiel, huh? That's an unusual name." Dean hedged to bring this into less heated territory.
"Yes, I am aware." He smiled wryly then bit his lip. The eye contact so readily given before was revoked and Dean felt its loss acutely. He dipped his head to catch Castiel's eye.
"Hey, man, I'm sorry. It's a great name!" Dean floundered.
"No, that's not it, ah, I, um." Castiel stuttered, blushing again and Dean was briefly distracted by how pretty it was. "Some people call me 'Cas.'"
Dean felt his face split in a grin so wide he could see his own cheeks. Cas smiled too, gummy and wide, his eyes sparkling.
"Hey, Angel."
"Hello, Dean."
***
It was only when Dean was editing the footage later that he realised he'd left the camera running and had caught that moment.
***
A thousand dates later, Dean played it at their wedding.