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"Sorry. Is this seat taken?" a man asks. Castiel looks up from his laptop right into beautiful green eyes. He stares at the man for a long moment, filing his face to memory. He's exactly what he needed as inspo for his new, as of yet faceless hero. But asking the guy for a picture would be beyond creepy. Castiel has learnt from past mistakes.
"You okay?" the man asks.
"Oh, sorry. No. Feel free to take it," Castiel says, a blush creeping into his cheeks.
"Awesome!" the man says and puts his tray on the table before he shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair opposite Castiel.
"The place is brimming," Mr Green-Eyes chuckles.
Castiel frowns at him before he scans the café. The man is right. There's nary a free chair in the place. The world always fades away when Castiel is writing. He didn't even notice the passing of time.
"The coffee is good here," he mumbles. "And the sandwiches. If I remember ordering them."
Mr Green-Eyes nods. "My go-to test when it comes to the quality of a coffee shop or diner is their black eye coffee and pie," he says, gesturing to his tray.
"Long day ahead?" Castiel asks. He's usually not interested in small talk, but his visitor is intriguing. He's strikingly different from the rest of the patrons. Sure, Castiel knows that outer appearances can be misleading, but Mr Green-Eyes doesn't look much like an artist, musician or writer. His hands look much more like those of a builder, calluses galore, nails trimmed short, the knuckles slightly cracked.
"That depends," the stranger smirks.
"On what?"
"How the evening will unfold. I'm Dean, by the way," he says and stretches out his hand.
Castiel takes it, a strong handshake following that probably lasts a tad too long. Castiel never knows what's appropriate. Not that it would matter. He'll never see the man again.
"Nice to meet you, Dean. My name is Castiel."
Dean gapes at him.
"Castiel? As in Castiel Shurley?"
Castiel chuckles in surprise. "You know my books, I guess."
"Oh, my god. I'm your biggest fan!" Dean all but squeals, fingers tapping excitedly on the tabletop.
Castiel chuckles. "You're probably my only fan, Dean."
"Uh-uh. We had Lazarus Rising in my virtual book club. I couldn't stop reading until I had finished the whole series. This is awesome!"
Castiel worries his lip. "Were you stalking me?"
Dean's eyes grow comically wide.
"Hell, no! I'm doing a job in the area. This is a coincidence, I swear, on my car."
Castiel isn't the best at reading people. He usually prefers his characters to real humans. But Dean's eyes look honest, and there was a flicker of something when he mentioned his vehicle. It must be special if it rivals the Bible.
"What are you doing for a living?" Castiel asks.
"Pest control," Dean says, not missing a beat.
"Bugs and such?"
Dean makes a face. "Yeah, stuff like that," he replies and clears his throat. "Are you working on something new?"
Castiel chuckles. "I'm battling with a first chapter draft. I'm glad you're saving me from it, if I'm honest. I always struggle with beginnings."
"Oh, I bet it's brilliant."
"It's probably rubbish," Castiel says.
"That's impossible."
Castiel arches an amused eyebrow and turns his laptop towards Dean. Dean's eyes roam over the single page that Castiel forced out throughout the whole day.
"I agree. This is complete boloney," Dean says. The harsh judgement affects Castiel more than he thought.
"W–why?"
"The way you described it. It has drive, I'll give you that. But you never fought with a knife, did ya?"
Castiel shakes his head.
"It figures. And you never fired a gun either, right?
"Is it that obvious?" Castiel asks, chagrined.
"Sadly, yeah. If he held the gun like that, he'd injure himself and others. Never aim a gun sideways."
"Really?"
"Yup. Tested for you," Dean chuckles. "I don't recommend it."
"It's how they often show it in movies."
"Well, it does look good on the screen, but in real life, it's extremely dangerous and unsteady."
Castiel nods in understanding, wetting his lips.
"Thank you. I guess I need to do research on that. I've never written a thriller before."
"A thriller?" Dean asks, excitement shining in his eyes.
"Yes. I had this idea, but it's not really my genre," Castiel sighs.
"Could this idea work in fantasy? I think you're writing it brilliantly."
Castiel goes through the key points of his still-to-be-filled storyline.
"I never thought about that. But it might just work."
"Great," Dean grins and stuffs his mouth with pie. "I hope I'll get an acknowledgement when you finish it—for my important contributions to the story."
Castiel chuckles. "Dean it was, right?"
"Right," Mr Green-Eyes smirks and downs his coffee. Castiel hopes he can not only remember the name but also his smile. He'll try to paint it with words. His Achillean readers will love it. And his straight female readers too.
***
Last but not least to my partner Dean. This book and so many beautiful memories wouldn't exist without you. Thank you for brewing the strongest of coffees for nights in front of my laptop and for making the best PB&Js whenever I forget to eat, drawn in by my characters or haunted by deadlines. Thank you for reminding me every day that these aren't just words on paper or a screen, but stories that could change someone's life for the better. You sure changed mine.