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“If I wanted to be judged I’d just go to some college fu fu bar in a tight tee shirt.” Sam looked up from the article he was reading on his laptop and sighed.
“What is it now?”
“That nerd barista keeps staring at me.” Dean caught the man’s eye again just before he looked away. “He just did it again!”
“Dude, let it go.”
“Let it- let it go?” he got up and whipped his hands on the sides of his jacket.
“De-”
“No Sammy, I’m going to enjoy this brownie and mocha frappuccino in peace.”
“Well if I can't stop you.”
“Damn straight you can't,” he stormed off towards the direction of the barista. Sam smiled to himself.
[Before]
“Nine dollars and fifty eight cents,” the server read from the cash register. “Would you like to round up your total and donate to the Starbucks Foundation?”
Sam patted his pockets for money. “Sure why not.” Nothing in his jeans nothing in his jacket either. “Hey Dean where’d you put my wallet?” His brother had ordered quickly and swiped up the only empty table before anyone else could get to it. The place was pretty full and Dean would rather not have to sit on a bench out front. It was getting cold out, alright.
“It's in your purse.”
“Computer bag.”
“Okay whatever.” Sam took the wallet out of his bag and fished out a ten dollar bill.
“Here you go.”
“Is that your brother?”
“Yes.
“He is very attractive.”
“Uh I don’t know how to respond to that.”
The server handed him a napkin with writing on it, “Would you mind giving this to him later?”
“What is it?”
“My number.”
“You want me to be your wingman?”
“What's that?”
“Nothing. Yeah I'll do it.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your drinks.”
Sam took out out another dollar and put it in the tip jar, “Thanks.”
__________________________
“Here you go ma'am. Would you like to round up-”
“Hey bud!” Dean pushed in front of the soccer Mom paying for her drinks.
“Excuse me.”
“Not now.”
“Well then.”
“I’m sorry,” the barista told her. “Just one second.” She sighed, took her kid’s hand, and moved to the side. Dean came up to the counter and the server smiled. “Hello.”
“Listen uh”
“Cas,” he pointed at the name tag on his shirt.
“Listen Cas, I don’t need to deal with your shitty stares so if you got something to say just say it. I’ve been called fat before I can take it.” Cas peered at him and leaned forward and all Dean could think was big blue eyes. The smile grew wider. Son of a bitch.
“I’m sorry that's the impression you're getting.”
“Well then what are you trying to do?”
“Get your attention…”
“For what?”
“Your number.”
“Oh… OH.”
“Yes.”
“Um sure okay.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I wrote it on your cup.”
“Oh right. Uhh. Don't have any paper.” Cas handed him an old receipt and pen and Dean wrote his number down.
“Thank you.”
“Course. Bye.”
“Goodbye, Dean.”
“Bye.”
__________________________
“Did you yell at him.”
“Shut up! Crap.”
“What?”
“I forgot to ask for his number.” Again Sam smiled to himself.
“Don't worry I have it.”
“Why do you-” He handed the napkin to him.
“Cool.”