Ficlet - The Man Across The Restaurant
Title: The Man Across The Restaurant
Author: tooearlyforthis
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: When he's set up on a blind date, Dean's all for it. Until, that is, he sees someone across the restaurant who he'd much rather be on a date with.
Crossposted from: Tumblr | AO3
Dean gave a wry smile as Aaron started talking about his Grandpa again. He got it. The old guy hated Nazi's. Everyone did. It wasn't exactly 'date in a nice restaurant' conversation.
He'd fucking dressed up for this guy, too. Suit pants, oxford shirt, his only pair of nice shoes, even a tie for God's sake. Charlie had told him that Aaron was a good guy, but when Dean had mentioned his love of Star Trek, and rewatching DS9, he'd said, "Oh yeah, I thought Deep Space 9 had the best concept of any of the series'," which wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't followed up with, "Wait, which one was Deep Space 9?"
So now Dean was far more invested in the man sitting alone at a table for two in the other waitress's section. Dean was betting he had been stood up, and was fairly sure he owed himself a beer as Dark Hair Blue Eyes started eating the last bread roll in the basket. Poor guy, Dean thought to himself. Maybe his date turned up, saw him, and left. Not that Dean would have done that. The man was attractive enough, and could certainly eat - and drink, judging by the fourth glass of wine that had just been placed on his table accompanied with a pitying look.
Aaron's mouth was opening and closing, his hands animatedly (and irritatingly) waving around as he spoke, a habit that could have been endearing if it were not blocking Dean's view of Dark Hair Blue Eyes every two seconds. He nodded and politely smiled, giving the impression he was listening while he became more and more fascinated with the man across the restaurant.
The man's blue eyes were set to form into triangles as he periodically checked his watch, his phone, and the door in succession, but he broke the cycle when he started adjusting his clothes. The man frowned down at his tie, twisted from where he had been distractedly playing with the knot, and tweaked it until the crease between his eyebrows lessened. Next came the imaginary lint on his sports jacket. His slender fingers were brushing his arms and lapels and picking at imaginary threads that had come loose. He just looked so nervous, and he was biting his lower lip, and his wide eyes were all worry and - shit. Dean wanted nothing more than to go over there and soothe the jitters that were emanating from him.
His entrée (just call it a frickin' starter, god) arrived, and Dean grimaced as he picked the salad out of it and moved the green shit with carrot shavings and excuses for tomatoes to the side of his plate.
"Not gonna eat your salad?" Aaron piped up. "I'll have it if you don't want it. I got bacon somewhere in this thing, and everything tastes good with bacon!"
Dean edged his plate towards Aaron's. "Go ahead, man. S'all yours."
They ate their entrées in silence, save for the crunching of lettuce in Aaron's mouth. He ate so loudly that Dean had to pour all his concentration into blocking that out instead of fixing his attention on Dark Hair Blue Eyes.
However, he almost choked on the final bite of his mozzarella in carrozza (the most normal thing on the starter menu) when Aaron placed his knife and fork down on his empty plate and declared, "This is like, one of the worst dates I've ever been on. No offence."
Snorting and clearing his throat, Dean said, "I'm really glad you said that, seriously."
"I mean, apparently all I can talk about is my Grandpa, and you're way more interested in something a couple of feet to the left of my head than you are about him."
Dean chuckled. "You're not wrong."
"Shall we call it a night? We can just tell Charlie that it didn't work out. Which is the truth, I guess," Aaron said with a lopsided smile. Coupled with big brown eyes, he looked like an adorable puppy, but adorable puppies didn't quite do it for Dean. He caught the waitress's eye for the bill, and they agreed to go dutch.
Dean saw his failed date out of the restaurant, took a deep breath of the night air and strode back in towards Dark Hair Blue Eyes's table, thanking the lord that he was still alone and that he was just as pretty, if not more, up close.
"What's a guy gotta do to get a raktajino around here, am I right?" He grinned and willed Dark Hair Blue Eyes to get his reference, otherwise all that handsome would be wasted.
The man looked slightly confused as Dean sat himself opposite him, but then nodded. "I believe you are a little early for one of those, give or take 300 years," Dark Hair Blue Eyes said conspiratorially.
With a beam, Dean leant forward and said, "A Trekkie and you're handsome, huh?"
"I could say the same of you," the man said with a boldness that no doubt came from the wine he'd been drinking. "I'm Castiel. I'd offer you a bread roll, but..." Castiel gestured to the empty basket and twitched his lips in something Dean thought might be a sad smile.
He couldn't be having that, so Dean stuck his hand into the basket and produced an imaginary roll, sticking it in his mouth and chomping down on it. Castiel giggled, and Dean thought it was the cutest thing in the world. "I'm Dean," he said around the faux mouthful.
Castiel frowned and brushed his left lapel. "You spat bread crumbs on me," he whined, mock-disgusted.
"Sorry," Dean said, swallowing. "Let me get that for you." He leant over the table and patted the imaginary crumbs off Castiel's jacket, making no effort to hide that he was actually feeling him up. Castiel didn't seem to mind, anyway. He was watching Dean with the eyes of a predator, slowly blinking and parting his pink lips in a way that Dean wanted to help with.
But he couldn't do anything until he was sure of one thing.
"So," he began, bringing his hand back after it had lingered too long on Castiel's chest, "You waitin' on anyone?"
Castiel seemed to contemplate this for a few seconds as he drew his gaze away from Dean before huskily announcing, "Not anymore," and bringing his eyes to penetrate Dean's again. There was something about the way Castiel looked at him that made him feel as if he were naked, and he found himself revelling in it.
Dean bit his lip, feigning nervousness, and started, "Do you wanna go on a date with me? I know this great little place, and I can personally recommend the 'mozzarella in carrozza' for a starter."
"I think you mean 'entrée'," Castiel smirked.
A surge of glee rose in Dean's chest. "Is that a yes?"
"It would be a little awkward if it weren't, seeing as I'm already planning what we're going to do after."
"And what would that be?" Dean asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
Castiel beckoned for Dean to lean forward and met him halfway, almost knocking the centrepiece over with the knot of his tie. "If I told you now, it wouldn't be a surprise for later, would it?"
And after Castiel had surprised him in ways he never thought possible, Dean fell back exhausted on his bed, fighting sleep with every heavy breath he took.
"I'm really glad you ruined my date," he yawned into Cas's neck (it was 'Cas' now, as words longer than a syllable tended to evade him when he was in the throes of hot sex with a gorgeous man who he'd met mere hours before).
"I ruined your date?" Cas's gravelly voice sounded extra sexy post-coitus, Dean decided, especially when his deft fingers were tracing around the sensitive area Dean had just been fucked in.
He nodded into Cas's warm chest, resisting the urge to lick it. "Yeah. I was on a date with this guy, and you," Dean lightly stabbed an accusatory finger into Cas's tummy, "You were distracting me with your stupidly blue eyes and your stupid dark hair. The other guy ended the date because I was too busy staring at this hot stranger across the restaurant to listen to him talk about his grandpa."
Cas chuckled. "Then I'm glad I got stood up." After a pause and a hum, he continued, "I never thought I'd say that."
"I'm glad you got stood up too," said Dean, rubbing his eyes. "I kinda wanna call the guy an asshole for doin' that, but shake his hand, if that makes sense."
"It makes sense," Castiel assured. He tilted Dean's head towards his and kissed him, all languorous lips and slow tongue. "How about another date, one that we plan, this time?"
"Let's make it a breakfast date," Dean replied, placing a final peck on Cas's beautiful mouth. "But this time, we'll start with the sex."
"That sounds agreeable to me," Cas said lowly, and pulling the man in his arms further into his chest, he whispered, "Goodnight, Dean."
Dean smiled. "Night, Dark Hair Blue Eyes."
And in the morning, Dean was woken by that dark hair bobbing near his crotch, and those blue eyes smiling where the owner's mouth could not.
Author: tooearlyforthis
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: When he's set up on a blind date, Dean's all for it. Until, that is, he sees someone across the restaurant who he'd much rather be on a date with.
Crossposted from: Tumblr | AO3
Dean gave a wry smile as Aaron started talking about his Grandpa again. He got it. The old guy hated Nazi's. Everyone did. It wasn't exactly 'date in a nice restaurant' conversation.
He'd fucking dressed up for this guy, too. Suit pants, oxford shirt, his only pair of nice shoes, even a tie for God's sake. Charlie had told him that Aaron was a good guy, but when Dean had mentioned his love of Star Trek, and rewatching DS9, he'd said, "Oh yeah, I thought Deep Space 9 had the best concept of any of the series'," which wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't followed up with, "Wait, which one was Deep Space 9?"
So now Dean was far more invested in the man sitting alone at a table for two in the other waitress's section. Dean was betting he had been stood up, and was fairly sure he owed himself a beer as Dark Hair Blue Eyes started eating the last bread roll in the basket. Poor guy, Dean thought to himself. Maybe his date turned up, saw him, and left. Not that Dean would have done that. The man was attractive enough, and could certainly eat - and drink, judging by the fourth glass of wine that had just been placed on his table accompanied with a pitying look.
Aaron's mouth was opening and closing, his hands animatedly (and irritatingly) waving around as he spoke, a habit that could have been endearing if it were not blocking Dean's view of Dark Hair Blue Eyes every two seconds. He nodded and politely smiled, giving the impression he was listening while he became more and more fascinated with the man across the restaurant.
The man's blue eyes were set to form into triangles as he periodically checked his watch, his phone, and the door in succession, but he broke the cycle when he started adjusting his clothes. The man frowned down at his tie, twisted from where he had been distractedly playing with the knot, and tweaked it until the crease between his eyebrows lessened. Next came the imaginary lint on his sports jacket. His slender fingers were brushing his arms and lapels and picking at imaginary threads that had come loose. He just looked so nervous, and he was biting his lower lip, and his wide eyes were all worry and - shit. Dean wanted nothing more than to go over there and soothe the jitters that were emanating from him.
His entrée (just call it a frickin' starter, god) arrived, and Dean grimaced as he picked the salad out of it and moved the green shit with carrot shavings and excuses for tomatoes to the side of his plate.
"Not gonna eat your salad?" Aaron piped up. "I'll have it if you don't want it. I got bacon somewhere in this thing, and everything tastes good with bacon!"
Dean edged his plate towards Aaron's. "Go ahead, man. S'all yours."
They ate their entrées in silence, save for the crunching of lettuce in Aaron's mouth. He ate so loudly that Dean had to pour all his concentration into blocking that out instead of fixing his attention on Dark Hair Blue Eyes.
However, he almost choked on the final bite of his mozzarella in carrozza (the most normal thing on the starter menu) when Aaron placed his knife and fork down on his empty plate and declared, "This is like, one of the worst dates I've ever been on. No offence."
Snorting and clearing his throat, Dean said, "I'm really glad you said that, seriously."
"I mean, apparently all I can talk about is my Grandpa, and you're way more interested in something a couple of feet to the left of my head than you are about him."
Dean chuckled. "You're not wrong."
"Shall we call it a night? We can just tell Charlie that it didn't work out. Which is the truth, I guess," Aaron said with a lopsided smile. Coupled with big brown eyes, he looked like an adorable puppy, but adorable puppies didn't quite do it for Dean. He caught the waitress's eye for the bill, and they agreed to go dutch.
Dean saw his failed date out of the restaurant, took a deep breath of the night air and strode back in towards Dark Hair Blue Eyes's table, thanking the lord that he was still alone and that he was just as pretty, if not more, up close.
"What's a guy gotta do to get a raktajino around here, am I right?" He grinned and willed Dark Hair Blue Eyes to get his reference, otherwise all that handsome would be wasted.
The man looked slightly confused as Dean sat himself opposite him, but then nodded. "I believe you are a little early for one of those, give or take 300 years," Dark Hair Blue Eyes said conspiratorially.
With a beam, Dean leant forward and said, "A Trekkie and you're handsome, huh?"
"I could say the same of you," the man said with a boldness that no doubt came from the wine he'd been drinking. "I'm Castiel. I'd offer you a bread roll, but..." Castiel gestured to the empty basket and twitched his lips in something Dean thought might be a sad smile.
He couldn't be having that, so Dean stuck his hand into the basket and produced an imaginary roll, sticking it in his mouth and chomping down on it. Castiel giggled, and Dean thought it was the cutest thing in the world. "I'm Dean," he said around the faux mouthful.
Castiel frowned and brushed his left lapel. "You spat bread crumbs on me," he whined, mock-disgusted.
"Sorry," Dean said, swallowing. "Let me get that for you." He leant over the table and patted the imaginary crumbs off Castiel's jacket, making no effort to hide that he was actually feeling him up. Castiel didn't seem to mind, anyway. He was watching Dean with the eyes of a predator, slowly blinking and parting his pink lips in a way that Dean wanted to help with.
But he couldn't do anything until he was sure of one thing.
"So," he began, bringing his hand back after it had lingered too long on Castiel's chest, "You waitin' on anyone?"
Castiel seemed to contemplate this for a few seconds as he drew his gaze away from Dean before huskily announcing, "Not anymore," and bringing his eyes to penetrate Dean's again. There was something about the way Castiel looked at him that made him feel as if he were naked, and he found himself revelling in it.
Dean bit his lip, feigning nervousness, and started, "Do you wanna go on a date with me? I know this great little place, and I can personally recommend the 'mozzarella in carrozza' for a starter."
"I think you mean 'entrée'," Castiel smirked.
A surge of glee rose in Dean's chest. "Is that a yes?"
"It would be a little awkward if it weren't, seeing as I'm already planning what we're going to do after."
"And what would that be?" Dean asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
Castiel beckoned for Dean to lean forward and met him halfway, almost knocking the centrepiece over with the knot of his tie. "If I told you now, it wouldn't be a surprise for later, would it?"
And after Castiel had surprised him in ways he never thought possible, Dean fell back exhausted on his bed, fighting sleep with every heavy breath he took.
"I'm really glad you ruined my date," he yawned into Cas's neck (it was 'Cas' now, as words longer than a syllable tended to evade him when he was in the throes of hot sex with a gorgeous man who he'd met mere hours before).
"I ruined your date?" Cas's gravelly voice sounded extra sexy post-coitus, Dean decided, especially when his deft fingers were tracing around the sensitive area Dean had just been fucked in.
He nodded into Cas's warm chest, resisting the urge to lick it. "Yeah. I was on a date with this guy, and you," Dean lightly stabbed an accusatory finger into Cas's tummy, "You were distracting me with your stupidly blue eyes and your stupid dark hair. The other guy ended the date because I was too busy staring at this hot stranger across the restaurant to listen to him talk about his grandpa."
Cas chuckled. "Then I'm glad I got stood up." After a pause and a hum, he continued, "I never thought I'd say that."
"I'm glad you got stood up too," said Dean, rubbing his eyes. "I kinda wanna call the guy an asshole for doin' that, but shake his hand, if that makes sense."
"It makes sense," Castiel assured. He tilted Dean's head towards his and kissed him, all languorous lips and slow tongue. "How about another date, one that we plan, this time?"
"Let's make it a breakfast date," Dean replied, placing a final peck on Cas's beautiful mouth. "But this time, we'll start with the sex."
"That sounds agreeable to me," Cas said lowly, and pulling the man in his arms further into his chest, he whispered, "Goodnight, Dean."
Dean smiled. "Night, Dark Hair Blue Eyes."
And in the morning, Dean was woken by that dark hair bobbing near his crotch, and those blue eyes smiling where the owner's mouth could not.