Chapter Text
Day One: The Meeting
Dean groaned when his alarm went off, blindly attempting to mute the sound. Comically, he ends up throwing the clock across the room. It hits a wall, making a peculiar sound. Dean frowned, peeking an eye open.
SHIT!
The alarm clock was stuck in the sad excuse of a wall. It fell out, leaving a fist-sized hole in it’s place.
Dean fell out of bed, rushing over to inspect the damage. Lucky for him, it was his job to fix homes. If anyone could resolve this (very stupid) problem, it would be him. After staring at the damage for a while, Dean walked into his bathroom. He turned on the shower and stripped.
He got into the shower, realizing a second too late that the water was ice-cold. Dean cussed, running a tired hand over his face. The water heater must have broken. Again.
Great, fucking perfect.
Dean finished his shower in a temperature equivalent to Antarctica. He shivered as he got into his black t-shirt and worn jeans. Hopefully his day improves from here.
He would be proved wrong.... very wrong.
Only when Dean closed the door to his home did he notice how heavily it was raining. Still, somehow, the water was warmer than what he took a shower in.
He sighed, fishing into his pockets for the house keys.
Oh... He forgot them on the kitchen counter.
Dean took a deep breath, attempting to control his temper. He walked down his driveway, getting into his black Impala and turning over her engine.
Dean dialed a number into his phone, pressing it to his ear. Charlie Bradbury, his old roommate and best friend, had a spare key to the home. She would be more than happy to help him out! But she lived an hour away. She offered to bring her keys down after work, but she wouldn’t be able to leave work until four.
So here Dean was at seven in the morning, soaked by the rain.
Where could he spend the next seven hours?
Dean felt a wave exhaustion wash over him. He hadn’t had coffee yet today. The man smiled to himself when realizing this, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. He could get coffee at his favorite cafe!
‘Gabriel’s Cafe’ was the best local coffee shop in town. It was always stocked with delicious pastries and, of course, a wide array of drinks. Dean would usually spend many of his mornings there. Hell, he even had his own spot! It was by the window, overlooking a clearing across the road.
That would be a perfect place to spend his day!
Dean found himself parked in front of the coffee shop. He got out of the Impala, running through the parking lot. Despite his best efforts, he is once again drenched by the rain. He stumbled into the shop, slamming the door behind him.
Gabriel was sitting behind the counter, feet propped up next to the cash register. His eyes widened when spotting his customer.
“Hey, Deano! Did you just go swimming, or something? You’re soaked!”
Dean rose an eyebrow, frowning at the Gabriel. He loved the guy, but often had to fight the urge to strangle him. Instead of killing his friend, he offered a tiny smile. “Can I get my usual? Maybe add a slice of pie into the mix?”
Gabriel nodded, standing up and turning around to work. “I’ll get you a towel too.”
Dean waited, shooting a quick text to Charlie that he was waiting in the cafe. Gabriel hollered at him about a minute later. Dean walked over to the counter, pulling out his wallet. Gabriel shook his head, a grin on his face. “It’s on the house. Seems like you need something good right now.”
Dean thanked him, grabbing his coffee cup, towel, and pie. He then walked over to—
Huh.
His spot was taken.
There was a man in Dean’s seat. He was looking out of the window at the rain, one hand resting on his laptop and the other wrapped around a coffee cup. Dean was not able to see his face, but the man had messy raven hair and wore a trench coat over a suit.
Dean’s first reaction was shock. Then anger.
Seriously???
Out of all days, this fucker had to choose TODAY to sit here?!?
Any other day and Dean wouldn’t have cared. Perhaps he would have been happy to give up his spot for someone else!
But today? Nu-uh, no way was that loser getting his spot. Dean walked over, balancing his coffee cup, towel, and pie plate in his drenched arms. “Hey, Chuckles, get outta my seat.”
The man turned away from the window, looking up and—
Oh my Chuck.
Dean immediately regretted speaking.
This wasn't just a loser...
He was a handsome loser.
The man had tan skin and high cheek bones, giving him a solemn look. He looked like he should have been on the cover of a magazine, not sitting in a coffee shop in some small town!
The most striking thing about this man were his eyes. They’re deep blue, equivalent in color to the vast and endless sky on a clear summer day. The man’s eyes were wide with curiosity, greatly contrasting his overall indifferent expression.
That’s when Dean noticed that the man’s (perfectly structured) lips were moving.
Well, shit.
Whatever the man had said, he didn't hear it.
When the man finished, Dean rose an eyebrow. “What?”
The man looked up at him in annoyance, eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn in a thin line. “I said that this isn't your seat. It’s mine.”
Dean was first bewildered by the sound of the man’s voice. It was low and deep, rumbling like thunder. His voice was annoyingly flat, as if he was reading from a boring math textbook.
Then Dean was angry. “No, it’s my seat! I sit here EVERY DAY!”
The man tilted his head (and no, it was definitely not cute). “You weren’t here when I arrived, and I do not see your name on the seat. In conclusion, this is not your seat. And since I am sitting here right now, it is, quite frankly, MY seat.”
Dean scoffed. “Okay, Spock, and when do you think you will be leaving???”
The man scowled. “Well, I was GOING to leave in five minutes.... but I think I will be staying longer. Much longer.”
Dean’s mouth hung open.
This man was TRYING to annoy him!
He grumbled, turning around and sitting on the other side of the cafe. He didn't know if he should be angry or dumbfounded. That attractive jerk STOLE his spot!!! And his heart. Maybe.
Dean wrapped the fluffy towel around himself, holding the quickly cooling mug in his hands.
Maybe if he kept watching the man, he would get intimidated and go away?
So that’s exactly what Dean did. He stared at the man from inside his makeshift towel hood, trying to look angry.
At first the man ignored him, either staring out the window or typing away on his computer. About ten minutes later and the man turns around. “Will you STOP staring at me???” He snapped, eyes glowering at him. Dean smirked, not allowing the man the satisfaction of peace.
Fuck—what is he doing? He was turning chair around to face....
Oh.
The man had flipped his chair around and sat back down. Now they were both glaring at each other, as if partaking in a really fucked up staring contest.
So the two men maintained eye contact, mouths twisted into scowls. Dean had no idea how long they did this.
Was this weird? For some strange reason, Dean found himself feeling... eerily safe.
Gabriel, who had been working in the back, was now watching them. Dean could spot him in his peripheral. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed his coffee cup, bringing the luke-warm liquid to his lips.
Gabriel’s voice was strangely high. “Hey, Dean, can you stop eye-fucking my baby bro?”
Dean spewed his drink, chocking on the coffee.
This was Gabriel’s BROTHER!?!
Dean scowled at the satisfied smirk that the blue-eyed enemy had flashed him.
———
About two hours later and the man STILL hasn’t left.
Dean had decided to ignore Gabriel’s brother after the whole staring thing. Maybe he could get some work done on his phone before Charlie came. The man was getting his own work done, typing feverishly on his computer.
But this was getting silly. How could he still be sitting there???
Not that he would ever admit it, but Dean allowed himself to spare a few glances in the blue-eyed man’s direction.
Who could blame him? He was very good looking, even if he was a jerk...
———
Okay, this guy SUCKS!!!!
It was four fucking forty-five, and the man HAS NOT GOTTEN UP.
Not even to use the rest room.
The man’s laptop had lost battery about an hour and a half ago. He had settled on reading a book, which was conveniently placed in his book bag.
Who wore a suit to a coffee shop anyways? What was his job?
Dean barely processed that fact that the cafe door had opened. A familiar redhead’s voice rang from above him. “Hey, Dean, Sorry for being late! I got out of work as soon as my boss let me. It doesn’t help that Gilda is also the boss at home—
“Shush!”
Charlie rose an eyebrow at Dean, who was shaking his head. “That man” he jerked a thumb in the accused’s direction “is the enemy. I can’t leave, or he’d have won!”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you home. You look like hell—er—no offense.”
Dean sighed, standing from his seat. “Offense taken.”
The man looked up from his book, smirking when he saw that Dean was getting prepared to leave. His low voice rumbled, sarcasm leaking from his words like poison. “Nice too meet you—Dean, was it?”
Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes as he spoke. “What’s your name?”
The man glared up at him. “Why?”
“I need to know the name of the man whose life I’ll make hell, right?”
The man smiled coldly. “My name is Castiel, and it’ll be me who makes YOUR life hell.”
———
Day Two: The Battle Of The Sugar Packets
Dean woke up, making an effort NOT to throw his alarm against the wall.
He shot out of bed, racing to the bathroom to take a shower.
He hadn’t forgotten about his rival, ‘Castiel’. He remembered that annoyingly rude man, who had really pretty eyes and wicked sex hair—
Nope. Dean didn't just think that.
He got ready as quickly as he could, racing out of his home and into baby. He was getting that seat!
He didn't even need to go for too long today! He just wanted to shove it in that asshole’s handsome—er—stupid face.
He sped to the coffee shop. He, apparently, arrived right on time. Castiel was getting out of his car, which happened to be a Mark V. Good to know that the man liked antique cars, even if it was an ugly one. Dean responded by jumping out from his own car.
He sprinted past Castiel, cackling like a witch as he passed.
“LOSER!”
Gabriel didn’t even have time to say anything to him. Dean rushed over to the seat, clinging onto it so tightly his fingers hurt.
Gabriel laughed. “Really, Deano? The seat is THAT important to you???”
“It’s not my fault that your brother’s a thief, Gabe.”
Castiel rushed in about three seconds later, a scowl on his face. He walked up to Dean, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.
“Really?”
Dean smirked up at him. “Heya, Sunshine! Turns out you weren’t quite fast enough today.”
Castiel huffed, shuffling over to the table Dean had been at yesterday. He glared at him from across the room, bottom lip sticking out. Gabriel laughed. “Are you two seriously that low?”
Dean smirked, a sense of accomplishment and pride overwhelming him. He opened his backpack, taking out his blueprints and laptop.
Gabriel brought him his cup of coffee shortly after. He drank it, making sure to sip as obnoxiously as he could. Castiel grimaced when hearing Dean’s slurps.
About three minutes of Dean constantly slurping his coffee, Castiel breaks. He rubs his eyes, groaning. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are???”
The dirty blonde smiled contently. “Yup” making sure to pop the P.
Castiel looked over at Gabriel pleadingly, who responded by shrugging. “No way I’m getting involved in this!”
The man turned to look at Dean again, who went back to slurping from his coffee cup obnoxiously.
Wait—why is Castiel standing?
The man walked over to the coffee station, grabbing a fistful of sugar packets. He went back to his seat, pointing at the packets.
“Slurp one more time, I DARE you.”
Challenge accepted! Dean slurped louder than before, ignoring that the hot coffee burned his tongue.
Castiel took a sugar packet from his hand and threw it at Dean. It hit him in the forehead, causing a loud smack to echo through the room.
He spewed his drink in shock. “What the—!?!”
Castiel glared at him. “Stop slurping. I won’t ask again.”
Dean felt his body heat up. Castiel sounded really upset...
So he did what any rational person would do when facing death: drink his coffee louder.
Castiel’s eyes widened. “I said STOP! Do you know what the word ‘stop’ means?”
Dean smirked. “Make me!”
The man’s eyes glinted dangerously, making Dean wish he had shut up. Before Castiel could say anything, his phone rang. He pulled his phone out of his trench coat pocket, putting it to his ear without breaking eye contact.
He felt small under Castiel’s frightening gaze... And safe for some reason, just like yesterday. Was that weird?
Castiel spoke into his phone, his voice low. “Dr. Novak speaking, who is this?..... Hello, what can I help you with?.... Okay. I can make an exception, since my office hours are soon. Just come in as soon as you can. Goodbye.”
Castiel hung up. His eyes locked onto green. “You got lucky this time, Dean. I have to go...”
Dean held his breath as he watched the man skulk out of the building. Only after he saw the Mark V exit the parking lot did he breathe again.
Gabriel giggled like a toddler. “One point for Cassie, zero for Winchester!”
Dean glared at the Cafe owner. “Are you... are you keeping score???”
The man smiled. “Well someone needs to win the ‘Coffee War’, right?”
“Did you just say... ‘coffee war?’”
Gabriel pressed a hand to his chest. “I came up with it myself! Sounds cool, right? I’m calling today, ‘The Battle Of The Sugar Packets!’”
Dean smiled to himself. ‘Coffee War’ had a nice ring to it.....
———