Work Text:
It was during one of the darkest days of his life that he saw him. Sitting at the top of the building, right above where his studio apartment was. His legs hung over the edge as he looked down thoughtfully. Since his brother had moved to college and his friends seemed to all disappear some darker thoughts clouded his mind. None of them good. His muse seemed to come and go, he was continually facing eviction…nothing seemed to be going write.
That was when he heard the music drifting across to him from across the street that was when he looked up. He had never heard it before, then again Dean was never really all that observant about his neighbours. Tilting his head he looked through the window his eyes widening when he took in the sight of the slightly tan brunet.
The strange man wore nothing but what seemed to be a silken skirt that moved gracefully with his movements. Every wave of the fabric catching the artists eyes as he watched. He seemed to be going perfectly in time with the beat of his music his belly, hips, arms, legs. Everything.
It was a form of synchrony that made Dean’s heart flutter wondering who this man was. Catching his lip between his teeth he adjusted his glasses, needing to know who this person was. But at the same time he did not want to stop watching…
Quickly pulling his cellphone out he began snapping pictures, committing this to memory. His muse seemed to have returned with renewed vigor.
It was just a matter of meeting this muse.
Maybe coffee would work…?
To his surprise it was just as easy as that. Easier even. Leaning over the counter at the coffee shop he worked at a low sigh left him. His coworker would not stop commenting on how he needed to get in the sun more. ‘Your freckles are starting to stand out more. You should eat more too. You’re practically skin and bones.’
Rolling his eyes he looked up when she finally stopped talking.
That’s when his eyes met the deepest of blue and his heart skipped a beat. “Chai tea please?” the accent was thick but Dean did not see that. All he could see was that this…this was his muse. This was the dancer from across the street.
He would recognize that lean build anywhere.
Mouth dry he just stared as Jo elbowed him in the side. “S-sure.” He rang it up casually asking the man’s name as he wrote it on the side of the cup, ignoring how his coworker was obviously giggling at him.
“Castiel.” A slight smile curved the chapped lips of the dancer as he leaned over the counter, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else was waiting.
Giving him a returning one Dean thought through all the ways he could try to talk to this man. With out Jo playing match maker on him…