Hurricane Drunk- Songfic
Castiel remembers the first time he saw Dean it was a wet Friday evening. He had been coming home from work along his usual route when he got caught in one hell of a microburst accompanied with a bucket load of chilling rain. He ducked into the nearest bar and shook out his trench coat, momentarily trying to smooth down his wild hair that he noticed sticking in all directions in the mirror sitting behind the counter. Deciding to wait out the small storm, he pulled a stool from the bar and sat facing the weekend crowd that was slowly beginning to grow as more and more people got out of work. He munched contentedly on the nut mix nearby, only briefly debating the consequences of eating out of a communal receptacle and deciding the possibility of catching the plague was worth it at the moment. It only took seconds for a pair of bright green eyes framed by a smattering of freckles to catch- and keep- his attention. The young man in possession of that most deadly of combinations leaned against a booth, occasionally throwing his head back in laughter. Castiel popped the button on his collar and loosened his tie, deciding that he might actually need a drink tonight as he watched the other man approach every person around him with the same free-spirited abandon that he had shown earlier. Castiel decided at that very moment that surely it was the fates who had conspired to bring them together in this perfect romantic comedy set-up (hey, shit happens when you read Austen far too often than is considered healthy).
Castiel had been coming to this hole in the wall every Friday since then, unabashedly observing as Dean bewitched woman after woman with his infectious smile and charming candor, always taking one home at the end of the night. He knew each specific smirk that Dean had in his arsenal- one each for the varying levels of interest he had in his current prey. Cas’ heart gave a painful throb each time he caught a wink from across the room, even though they were never directed at him, and he tried to keep the flush that always managed to crawl up his neck in control as he sipped at whatever fruity drink the bartender- Anna- had decided to serve up. After his fourth straight week of borderline stalking, she had come up to him and given him the “lowdown” on everything Dean Winchester. That night his hopes had come crashing down when he learned that Dean had never once been seen taking home a man, but he had gained a friend and begrudging ally in his obsession.
They had a silently agreed upon dynamic- Castiel would come in and pay for whatever ridiculous drink Anna felt like mixing (each one getting exponentially more creative as the weeks went by) and in return she would aid in his bitching sessions about how skeevey the girls that hung around Dean were. It worked well enough and they got along easily- slowly moving from acquaintances to friends as they started seeing each other outside of the bar. She had never once complained about all of his wallowing until now, three months into the situation- three months of pining and drowning his sorrows in colorfully named drinks. At this point he had decided that Dean Winchester had ruined all other men for him, and he would spend the rest of his days as the ‘creepy-ass professional drunk’ that seemed necessary at all places such as this. Tonight he got an early start on building his new reputation by demanding shots before the neon blue drink that he spied Anna preparing behind the counter.
She gave him a wary look, but just shook her head and complied, having already tried to talk him into looking elsewhere for someone that would give him “the life he deserved”. He looked out at the crowd and saw yet another of those androgynous blonde skanks laced across Dean’s shoulders, and he momentarily wondered if someone ran a bimbo factory nearby that he wasn’t aware of. For a passing moment he caught Dean’s gaze with his own, and any other night he would have melted at the heat of it, but this night he downed what was left in his martini glass and stood to leave. He gave Anna an exaggerated salute, dropping a bill on the counter before walking to the door. Regarding the scene pictured through the dingy window on the door he saw that the heavens were running rampant and he had to bite back a bark of laughter. How poetic that this strange affair should start and end in the same fashion. It was a bit of a walk home and he had no umbrella, but staying in the bar didn’t even seem like an option, and after taking a moment to brace himself he walked out into tempest.
He made it halfway through the parking lot when his legs froze up and he found himself rooted to the spot. Squinting fiercely in an attempt to keep the violent water droplets out of his eyes, he looked up at the roiling clouds and felt an emotion he couldn’t place begin swell inside him like a wave. Thinking perhaps he had finally gone off the deep end tonight he threw his arms wide and raged at the sky, just letting the storm seep through his being. He was fairly certain his rapidly growing drinking problem was a large contributor to his current predicament, but right now he felt the need to blame the universe and its sucky ass promise of destiny. He lowered his arms and let his head fall when they felt too heavy to hold up any longer, staring at the rivers forming in the street while convincing himself to start heading home before he became the first person to commit suicide by tropical storm. His joints began to ease up, as though oil had been applied to his creaky parts, and just as he thought he was going to get away with his very public, somewhat tiny mental breakdown, he felt someone pull at his shoulder. He whip-shitted around in a vicious semi-circle and found himself face to face with a sheepish grin and genuinely concerned eyes attached to one thoroughly soaked Dean Winchester.
“What’re you doing out here?” he practically yelled though cupped hands to be heard above the pounding of the rain.
Castiel couldn’t keep himself from nervously laughing as he tried to think up something, but he quickly abandoned the attempt and just shrugged his shoulders, running a hand through his own hair, causing small streams to run down his face. “I belong to the hurricane.”
Instead of receiving the confused, mildly terrified expression he was expecting, Dean just chuckled before leaning in closer, “You too, huh?” They share an oddly comfortable moment of silence as they stare at each other- cautious grins pulling at both their faces. Castiel tried to keep from showing just how much he was freaking out on the inside when Dean gestured towards a gleaming, black car nearby. “You look like you could use a ride.” Castiel nods slowly and lets himself be guided to it. As he slides in, he can’t keep from thinking maybe my life is a Jane Austen novel.
Castiel had been coming to this hole in the wall every Friday since then, unabashedly observing as Dean bewitched woman after woman with his infectious smile and charming candor, always taking one home at the end of the night. He knew each specific smirk that Dean had in his arsenal- one each for the varying levels of interest he had in his current prey. Cas’ heart gave a painful throb each time he caught a wink from across the room, even though they were never directed at him, and he tried to keep the flush that always managed to crawl up his neck in control as he sipped at whatever fruity drink the bartender- Anna- had decided to serve up. After his fourth straight week of borderline stalking, she had come up to him and given him the “lowdown” on everything Dean Winchester. That night his hopes had come crashing down when he learned that Dean had never once been seen taking home a man, but he had gained a friend and begrudging ally in his obsession.
They had a silently agreed upon dynamic- Castiel would come in and pay for whatever ridiculous drink Anna felt like mixing (each one getting exponentially more creative as the weeks went by) and in return she would aid in his bitching sessions about how skeevey the girls that hung around Dean were. It worked well enough and they got along easily- slowly moving from acquaintances to friends as they started seeing each other outside of the bar. She had never once complained about all of his wallowing until now, three months into the situation- three months of pining and drowning his sorrows in colorfully named drinks. At this point he had decided that Dean Winchester had ruined all other men for him, and he would spend the rest of his days as the ‘creepy-ass professional drunk’ that seemed necessary at all places such as this. Tonight he got an early start on building his new reputation by demanding shots before the neon blue drink that he spied Anna preparing behind the counter.
She gave him a wary look, but just shook her head and complied, having already tried to talk him into looking elsewhere for someone that would give him “the life he deserved”. He looked out at the crowd and saw yet another of those androgynous blonde skanks laced across Dean’s shoulders, and he momentarily wondered if someone ran a bimbo factory nearby that he wasn’t aware of. For a passing moment he caught Dean’s gaze with his own, and any other night he would have melted at the heat of it, but this night he downed what was left in his martini glass and stood to leave. He gave Anna an exaggerated salute, dropping a bill on the counter before walking to the door. Regarding the scene pictured through the dingy window on the door he saw that the heavens were running rampant and he had to bite back a bark of laughter. How poetic that this strange affair should start and end in the same fashion. It was a bit of a walk home and he had no umbrella, but staying in the bar didn’t even seem like an option, and after taking a moment to brace himself he walked out into tempest.
He made it halfway through the parking lot when his legs froze up and he found himself rooted to the spot. Squinting fiercely in an attempt to keep the violent water droplets out of his eyes, he looked up at the roiling clouds and felt an emotion he couldn’t place begin swell inside him like a wave. Thinking perhaps he had finally gone off the deep end tonight he threw his arms wide and raged at the sky, just letting the storm seep through his being. He was fairly certain his rapidly growing drinking problem was a large contributor to his current predicament, but right now he felt the need to blame the universe and its sucky ass promise of destiny. He lowered his arms and let his head fall when they felt too heavy to hold up any longer, staring at the rivers forming in the street while convincing himself to start heading home before he became the first person to commit suicide by tropical storm. His joints began to ease up, as though oil had been applied to his creaky parts, and just as he thought he was going to get away with his very public, somewhat tiny mental breakdown, he felt someone pull at his shoulder. He whip-shitted around in a vicious semi-circle and found himself face to face with a sheepish grin and genuinely concerned eyes attached to one thoroughly soaked Dean Winchester.
“What’re you doing out here?” he practically yelled though cupped hands to be heard above the pounding of the rain.
Castiel couldn’t keep himself from nervously laughing as he tried to think up something, but he quickly abandoned the attempt and just shrugged his shoulders, running a hand through his own hair, causing small streams to run down his face. “I belong to the hurricane.”
Instead of receiving the confused, mildly terrified expression he was expecting, Dean just chuckled before leaning in closer, “You too, huh?” They share an oddly comfortable moment of silence as they stare at each other- cautious grins pulling at both their faces. Castiel tried to keep from showing just how much he was freaking out on the inside when Dean gestured towards a gleaming, black car nearby. “You look like you could use a ride.” Castiel nods slowly and lets himself be guided to it. As he slides in, he can’t keep from thinking maybe my life is a Jane Austen novel.