Chapter Text
Dean surveyed the faded old sign hanging lopsidedly from the front of the building. There was no point trying to salvage it, he’d have to get a whole new one. Maybe Charlie could paint it for him. He had bought the old place a week before, in the hopes of starting up his own business. He wanted to turn bummed-out old newsagency into a coffee and cake shop. Like a café, but Dean didn’t want to have to sort out meals at this point in time.
He pulled the key out of his jeans pocket and opened the grimy glass doors. Inside, it was dark and cold. The inside of the building had been gutted, with a broken overhead light and old plasterboard chips scattered on the chilly concrete floor as remnants of the building’s previous life. Dean thought about all the pictures that he had stuck in a little notebook as ideas for the interior of the place. It was hard to try and transfer them into this dingy space.
Dean had made a list in his notebook of what he had to do before he opened. The first big job, Dean decided, was the floor. He’d have to hire someone to polish and clean it, and then he’d lacquer it so it went a dark grey colour. He wanted the ceiling white instead of the ugly yellow, and an almost-black brick wall up the back. And some light-bulbs hanging from chains on the ceiling. Dean thought that having an industrial-type place would fit in well with the vibe of the city. Although there was a lot of work to do, Dean felt optimistic. After years of saving, he was finally living his dream.
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Back home in his small flat, Dean began sketching some designs in his notebook for the shop sign. He played with a few titles, and ‘Winchester’s Coffee & Cake’ seemed best to him. Or ‘D.W.’s Coffee & Cake’. He’d ask Charlie later on if he should have it in all caps or regular. He stifled a yawn. There was plenty of time to decide on the sign before opening.
Even though Dean was feeling excited about opening his own café, he was also stressing out a bit. Yes, he had made a to-do list, but it went on for about seven pages. “One thing at a time, Winchester,” he mumbled to himself. He walked to the shower, peeling off his too-tight jeans. They’d shrunk in the wash a while back, but Dean didn’t really care. He shucked off his soft plaid shirt and his underwear before taking out his gold helix stud and small hoop earring. Sam kept telling him that it made him look like a ‘wannabe punk’, but Dean really liked them. They weren’t big and noticeable, but still said something about him. Plus, when he had gotten them done, it had earned him several approving looks from Cas, so Dean knew he’d made a good decision. He stepped under the warm spray and relaxed, tension easing from his shoulders. He soaped himself and massaged a little bit of shampoo through his short, soft hair, which he liked to spike up when he was going out somewhere. After he’d cleaned himself, he stood there under the warm water for another ten minutes, pondering all that this new business venture could mean for him. And also where he was going to find someone to polish the dirty old floor for him.
After towelling off and pulling his boxers on, he put on another flannel shirt, since it was getting cooler. It was soft, faded and worn in patches; it had been Sam’s when he was younger. It had fit him when he was six foot, (Dean’s height), but now Sammy was six four and ‘built like a brick shithouse’, according to Dean. It smelled of Sam’s cologne and cinnamon from where Dean had made snickerdoodle cookies for Sam’s kids the other week. Jensen and Alana were growing up fast. Jensen was 9, and Alana was 12, and were growing like weeds. The kids had clearly gotten their height from Sam, since Jess wasn’t very tall. Dean sighed. He was getting old, he thought, his 35th was coming up soon. He had heard a few mumblings from Charlie and Jo about how Cas was planning something for him, but he’d tuned it out, since he wanted it to be a surprise.
Dean snuggled in under his duvet, and buried his head in his pillow. It still smelled of Cas’ shampoo from when he had crashed on Dean’s bed after Sam had put too much rum in the fruitcake they’d had at Jess’ birthday party not long ago. Cas was a total lightweight, much to Dean’s amusement. Dean took a deep sniff of the pillow. The scent, combined with the one from his flannel shirt, was comforting. It was a reminder of the two people he cared about the most. Dean fell asleep easily, with a hint of a smile on his handsome face.