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Sam texts just as Dean wraps his hand around the store’s door handle. He knows it’s Sam without checking because no one else would have such impeccable timing. He hesitates, groans, and then decides fuck it. He’s been good- honestly good this time- and, goddamn it, one sugary drink isn’t going to kill him. He’ll even get the small, or the petite, or whatever they’re calling it these days.
Dean flings the door open and enters the Starbucks. He gets in line behind a young woman in yoga pants and a sports bra and slides his eyes down her back in admiration as he fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket. He unlocks it to find Sam’s inspirational message of the day: A healthy outside starts from the inside! Think positive, Dean! Dean rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone back into his pocket to scan the menu.
Dean steps up to the counter to order an Iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte as his phone goes off again. After he orders, he looks to see Sam’s warning Don’t do it! You only ignore me if you are about to do something bad! Dean rolls his eyes and replies bite me.
Dean’s phone goes off for a third time as he’s leaving the Starbucks. He reaches into his jacket, frowning as his phone catches on the lining of his pocket. As he struggles with it, he pushes through the door and slams chest to chest with someone. His coffee gets smashed between them and spills down both their fronts.
“Shit,” Dean laments, pulling at his shirt with a pout. The man in front of him is apologizing, ignoring his own wet clothes.
“I’m so sorry-”
“No, dude,” Dean starts, “I wasn’t looking-”
He cuts off as he raises his head to stare into a stunning pair of blue eyes surrounded by laugh lines. He blinks. His gaze wanders to take in the man’s messy hair, his stubbled jaw, a wide mouth that is now curving up into a knowing smile-
Dean jerks his eyes back up and clears his throat. He smiles his warmest smile, the one that never fails to make his target sigh and give in. “Sorry, man, I was trying to get to my phone.”
“Oh?”
The door opens behind Dean before he has a chance to answer. The man reaches out to pull Dean out of the way, stepping back as he pulls Dean forward. Dean goes, delighted by the way the man pulls Dean closer to him.
“Yeah, my brother’s been harassing me to eat healthier.” Dean shrugs and gives a sheepish grin.
The man raises an eyebrow and looks over at the green Starbucks sign hanging in the window next to them.
“It was a treat!” Dean defends, laughing as the man smiles at him. He leans forward and teases, “You know, you did ruin my treat for the day. You should probably make it up to me by buying me a replacement.”
The man hums and gives the Starbucks sign another glance. “No,” he says, and Dean feels his smile slip. He opens his mouth to apologize, but the man grabs Dean by his elbow and turns him around to guide him down the street.
“I don’t think your brother would appreciate me undermining his efforts...ah?” the man says, voice lifting in question as he tilts his head toward Dean. His hand is still tucked warm around Dean’s elbow.
“Dean,” he answers.
“Dean.” The man’s voice is low and warm, a late-night rumble of sound that sends a shiver down Dean’s spine. “I’m Castiel.” He brings them to a stop in front of a small shop with a sign that reads “Heaven’s Comfort” in a large, rounded font with “Teas, Honeys, and Pastries” underneath in a smaller, curving font. He digs a key from his pocket and opens the door. He leads Dean inside, locking the door behind them. “I think perhaps your brother would appreciate you treating yourself to something healthy, Dean.”
“You think so, huh?”
Castiel smiles at him, one corner of his mouth turning up. “What was your drink?”
He nods at Dean’s answer, eyes narrowing in consideration before he busies himself behind the counter. Dean watches as Castiel fills an electric kettle with a tinted liquid and then sets it aside to heat up. He pulls out a small carafe, a squeeze container of honey, and a couple of jars of spices. When the tea boils, he pours two cups and then turns to give Dean a considering look. Dean raises his eyebrows but says nothing as Castiel turns away and begins preparing the tea.
When he finally sets the steaming cup before Dean, Dean gives it a narrow look before picking it up to sniff at it. He takes a tentative sip. It’s flavorful with a bit of a kick, and Dean can’t help the appreciative look he sends Castiel before taking a larger drink.
Castiel quirks a smug smile at him before coming around to stand next to Dean as he drinks his own cup of tea.
“See, Dean, it’s very easy to treat yourself and still be healthy.”
Dean looks over at Castiel. He’s standing close again, closer than should be comfortable, but Dean likes it. He shifts his weight so the sleeves of their shirts brush and he can feel the heat of Castiel’s body.
“I dunno, Cas,” Dean says, taking another drink of tea and looking away. “I might need somebody who knows what they’re doing to show me the ropes.”
Castiel shifts then, pressing his arm against Dean’s. Dean hears the smile in his voice when he says, “I think that can be arranged,” and Dean smiles down into his cup.