Chapter Text
Sam was highly suspicious about where his brother was taking him. It was unlikely that they were going somewhere Sam would actually like. The last three "brotherly" outings like this had been to a bourbon brewery, a strip club, and a prison holding cell, in that order.
"So what's the place called?" Sam asked, nervously tapping his fingers against his thigh while his brother drove at a deadly speed.
"Sacred Grounds. It's a coffee shop bakery place." Dean calmly replied, unaffected by the ridiculous speed like Sam.
"Oh, great. So, why are you taking ME there?" Sam looked out the window, watching the buildings pass by in a blur. He was going to get nauseous if the ride lasted much longer.
"Because you've been living off off ramen noodles for the past few weeks. Might come across as news, but you need actual food every once in a while. They even make some of that organic crap for you."
That piqued Sam's interest, but only slightly. Although he knew that Dean loved him, Sam's interests weren't exactly his brother's first priority. "You wouldn't take me to some random bakery just because you knew I like organic food. What's the real reason we're going?" Sam inquired.
Dean turned his head away, but not before Sam saw the tinge of red on Dean's cheeks. "For the pie. Duh." Dean answered, not entirely managing to conceal to the stutter in his voice.
Sam narrowed his eyes, but let the subject drop. He could use the nutrients anyways. His brother wasn't wrong. He had been cramming for finals, and had only eaten microwaveable food. And that was when he'd remembered to eat at all.
When they arrived at the shop several minutes later, Sam raised his brows. It was a nice stone building. Colorful plants grew alongside the front pathway, blooming out of the window boxes. Gravel crunching under their feet as they approached. Painted on a sign above the door in bold white letters were the words Sacred Grounds, over a logo of an angel's wings.
Sam gripped the cold metal handle of the door and swung it open. The sound of wind chimes met him. Then he was instantly overwhelmed with the decadent aroma of delicious goods. He inhaled the strong scent of coffee grinds mixed with the distinct warm smell of baked bread. In one side of the shop there were a multitude of comfortable looking chairs and tables. That wall was lined with bookshelves, a personal library. On the other side of the cafe there was a large counter with glass display cases filled with cakes and cupcakes frosted to perfection. An assortment of different sweet treats stared tantalizingly back at him. His mouth watered.
Sam was in heaven.
Things only got better from there. Behind the counter sat two men with otherworldly good looks. The one manning the cash register perked up upon spotting them. Even Sam couldn't help but to notice his ruffled dark hair and piercing deep blue eyes. The man didn't seem to notice him, though. Instead, he was staring straight at Dean. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd describe the man's look as one of wonder.
The second man was the one that held Sam's attention, though. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and glared at Dean in a less than subtle way. Clad in a tight black shirt and jeans with a green apron thrown on top, the barista had haphazardly combed light brown hair and eyes that glinted just right in the sun. It was as if his eyes couldn't decide what color they wanted to be. At one angle, they looked as golden as his hair. At another they looked as if they were a brilliant olive green. Sam's brain short-circuited, leaving him entirely unaware of his intent staring.
The man looked at Sam, raising his brows once he caught his gaze. It took several moments to realize he'd been noticed. Then he instantly looked down, embarrassed. Why had he even been staring in the first place? Just observing, he assured himself.
Sam almost had to pull his brother out his stupor and to the register. He hoped that they could just get their food quickly. Red had slowly crept into his face. It wasn't something he needed anyone else to see.
The cashier gulped nervously, smiling. "H-hello. My name is Castiel. What would you like to order?"
"I'll have a slice of pecan pie." Dean replied, staring Castiel down. Castiel took on a pink hue, quickly moving his gaze over to Sam. "I'll just have a black coffee and a slice of banana bread," Sam ordered. He turned around and sat down at a table, ditching Dean to pay for their food.
When Dean walked over, he gave Sam a disdainful look. "Dude, you can't pay for your own food?"
Sam looked over nonchalantly. "You dragged me out here. You can pay. Besides, it's not like ramen is my food of choice. It's ten cents a pack. It's called budgeting."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You can be a douchebag sometimes, Sammy."
Sam grinned. "I know. I learned from the best."
Before Dean could reply with another smartass comment, their names were called. Sam got up to retrieve their food after Dean only gave him a deadpan stare. He handed off the pie and banana bread to Dean, then walked back to get his coffee.
The second Sam turned around with his coffee in hand, he collided straight into someone. His drink sloshed over the side, splashing right onto the stranger.
Sam glanced up to see that it was the same hazel-eyed barista from earlier. Sam wordlessly gaped for a few moments before he was able to reel himself back into reality.
"Shit. Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I should've watched where I was going," Sam babbled. He grabbed a wad of napkins and rubbed at the stain on the man's apron. He remained silent, although red crept into his face. Sam was almost afraid that he was about to be yelled at when eventually the man spoke.
"Buddy, I appreciate the effort, but I don't think you realize that you're rubbing my crotch right now," the man tensely replied, his face set into a strange expression.
Sam looked down to his hands and immediately yanked them away. Oh, God, he was never going to live this down. His face reached a shade of fuchsia in record time. After he regained his composure, he mumbled, "God, I'm so sorry. I'll pay for your dry cleaning or whatever else you need."
The man patted Sam on the shoulder, mustering all the dignity he could. "Tell you what, Sasquatch. You buy something else from the shop, and I'll forget this ever happened."
Sam nodded his head vigorously. "Of course." After buying an extremely expensive slice of fancy cake, Sam walked back to the table. Dean sat there, straining to keep in his laughter.
"That was quite the show." Dean said, chuckling.
"Shut up," Sam snapped. He stuffed his face with the surprisingly delicious cake to avoid further conversation. He narrowed his eyes a minute later once he realized that something was missing.
"Where's my banana bread?" He asked Dean.
Dean shrugged. "You were taking a long time, so I ate it."
"I hope you die of a heart attack," Sam groaned.
"Aw. You don't mean that, Sammy," Dean said, widening his eyes in an effort to achieve an innocent look.
Their conversation continued like that, trading casual banter and insults. But as they talked, Sam couldn't help but keep glancing at the hazel-eyed man, whose gaze Sam could feel hot on his neck. And at the back of his mind, the thought that maybe he should've asked for the guy's name pestered him, even after they'd left.