Fic: A Sassy Cup of Coffee (Part One)
Part One: Medium Coffee, Black
"Welcome to Perks, what can I get for you?" Sam asks, barely looking up as he throws the old coffee bins away and passes the empty filter back to Jess to fill. Jess gives him a wide-eyed look and pointedly glances at the costumer. Confused, Sam looks over and ... it's him.
Trench coat guy has been sitting in the cramped coffee house since Sam started a month back. The manager had been getting more and more annoyed at the guy, since he never seemed to buy anything. Trench Coat only ever watched people, tilting his head to the side as he observed people getting their caffeine fix.
"Sir, can I help you?" Sam asks, as Trench Coat kept staring at him, making no move to order despite the growing line behind him.
"People get coffee here," the man finally says, his voice deep and gruff.
"Yes," Sam says slowly. He wondered if there is something wrong with Trench Coat. "Do you want some coffee?"
"Why do people get coffee?" Trench Coat asks.
"Um, because it tastes good and sometimes you just need the caffeine?" Sam struggles to answer. Jess is laughing beside him and it’s just further proof that she’s a horrible person deep down.
"I think I would l like to try some." The man shows no emotions. It's such a robotic response that Sam starts to wonder if that is what the man had been doing over the past month; just sitting and trying to decide whether to try some coffee or not.
"Okay, what type of coffee?" Sam asks.
"Coffee."
"Yes, but see there are types, um if it's your first one you probably don't want it too strong," Sam advised, thinking of the time Dean had force-fed him the left over dregs of the coffee from their motel room and how it had been so strong and bitter it had put him off for years. Memories of Dean still held all the pain of a fresh wound and, as had been necessary several times over since Sam had started at Stanford, he forced himself back to the present, putting all thoughts of his brother behind him. "I can put some cream and sugar into it, so it's not too bitter. How much would you like?"
"I just want coffee," Trench Coat demanded. "People drink coffee."
"Okay," Sam says, quickly putting together a medium blend that isn't too black and gave Trench Coat the cup. The man is man already had the exact change ready on the countertop. Instead of leaving the counter, though, he tossed off the lid and chugged the liquid down in front of Sam. After the full, very hot coffee is finished, Trench Coat firmly placed the cup back on the counter and stared at Sam. Sam does not know what to think.
"That is disgusting," Trench Coat frowned, very perplexed as he stared down at the empty cup. "Why do people drink coffee?"
"It just takes some getting used to," Sam managed to say through his shock.
"Oh," Trench Coat says, before turning on his heel and marching out of the coffee house.
"So, he’s odd." Jess commented, reaching around Sam to grab the empty cup.
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
"Think he'll be back in?"
"Nah. I mean- I don't think he really liked the coffee."
Sam is wrong. Trench Coat man came back the following day. Sam saw him waiting in line. He stood out from the usual crowd; Perks is most frequented by students, and while there were a huge majority that came from money, or at least seemed to- compared to the rough-and-ready way Sam is used to living- the going fashion choice were study-friendly super comfortable sweaters and university lingo-ed outfits. Trench coats stood out, and a nice suit under it? Also unheard of.
"Are you going to try some coffee again?" Sam asks as soon as Trench Coat got up to the counter.
"You say it takes some getting used to." Trench Coat reminded him, putting his change on the counter as if this is some sort of high stakes poker game. The man is completely serious. Silently, Sam watches as the man once again takes the coffee, downs it in one go, grimaces and stalks away from the counter out the front door.
The next four shifts were exactly the same.
Trench Coat is asking after you. Something I should know?
Sam rubbed his eyes blearily and reread the text to make sure he’d actually read it right. Jess rarely bothered him when she knew an essay is due the next day.
Just give him whatever medium blend we have. he likes to down it like a shot
ps completely ready to kill this txt book
Why does he keep coming if he hates coffee? And you cant kill the txt book because you can't afford the replacement.
Why are you so sensible?
Because one of us has to be? xo
Halloween is approaching, and as Sam sees more and more costumes and candy coming out, he feels a bitter resentment growing. Two guys in his class start a debate over what is cooler, a werewolf or a vampire. Sam wants to punch them both; neither is cooler. They are bloodthirsty killing machines that would rip apart families and tear their lungs out with joy. There shouldn't be a holiday to celebrate the one thing that has torn his family to shreds.
His way of dealing with it is to bury himself in work; long hours in the library and taking every shift available at Perks. He focuses on course work; on his readings; on serving coffee for hours on end to the groggy student population. The exciting part of the shift is when Trench Coat would come in. Despite almost a month of constant coffee drinking he still hadn't found any he really liked and yet he kept on appearing.
Today, just a week before Halloween, Sam is just about to start his break when he sees the familiar trench coat sweep through the door. Quickly pouring a cup of coffee, he walks out and hands the cup to the guy.
"It is custom for me to pay for this." Trench Coat stated, looking perplexed at this unexpected turn of events.
"Yeah, well, this one is on the house." Sam says, smiling at the man's obvious confusion. Sam isn't sure if he is showing more emotion or if, after all these weeks, he is finally getting better at reading him. Either way it is nice to finally see the crack in that impenetrable armour.
"I do not understand." the man frowned.
"It's free, this one, don't worry about it." Sam wondered if he is foreign, but he doesn't seem to have an accent or any trouble with the English language. His voice is oddly low and rumble-y, but if that is an accent and there is a place on Earth where everyone spoke like that ... well, that would be very weird.
"Why aren't you behind the counter?" Trench Coat demanded.
"I'm on my break. You can join me if you like?" Sam suggested, kicking himself mentally. It isn't that Sam is anti-social, but a life growing up on the road had not raised him to be adept at making friends. Since starting university his only real friend had been Jess, whom he had met during Freshers’ Week, as she lived right next to him in residence. She had seen him move in with no family to help him, and had never asks or tried to pry information out of him. Still- Sam hadn't gone out of his way to befriend anyone.
"I will join you." Trench Coat stated, following awkwardly behind Sam as he made his way over to his favourite spot. The comfy, worn chairs were pushed into the alcove of the coffee shop, next to a large bank of windows. Perks is in an old house, which had been remodelled and decorated in bright, vibrant colours. Each table is painted a solid colour, with rainbows and funny sayings and doodles making for a laid back atmosphere. Dean would have hated it.
Sam takes a sip of his water, grabbing the huge cookie the cook loved to make and crumbling it into small, bite sized pieces. Trench Coat watched him. Not sure what to say, Sam carefully chewed each piece.
"So, um, I'm Sam," Sam says.
"I know."
Apparently conversation is out of the question.
"What's your name?"
"Castiel."
"That's different." Sam says.
"My father gave it to me." Trench coat told him. That is it; no story about why his father had given him such a strange name and Sam is left with nothing really to say.
By the time Sam had finished his cookie, he glances at the clock and realizes there is still another five minutes to his break. It is the longest break in the history of work breaks. Castiel doesn't seem bothered by the awkward silence between strangers; he simply stares at Sam as if dissecting him as easily as Sam had torn apart his cookie.
"Well, I better get back to work," Sam lied.
Getting away as fast as possible, Sam quickly made his way back behind the counter.
"So, you and Trench Coat, huh?" Jess teased him, smirking as she skilfully twirled the whipped cream on a pumpkin latte.
"His name is Castiel." Sam says, watching as the familiar trench coat swept out of the coffee shop.
"Did you get his number?" Jess asks, nudging Sam in the side and laughing as he spluttered.
"He barely says two words." Sam complained.
"Still, the way he is looking at you ..." Jess teased. "He looks ready to gobble you up, or, well, part of you at least..."
Blushing slightly, Sam shrugged.”He stares at everyone like that."
"Maybe you can get his number next time you take a break with him." Jess suggested.
"Why would I ever do that again? It is the most awkward ten minutes of my life."
Only it isn't the last time Castiel joins Sam during his break. Over the next few weeks there are a number of times when Sam looks up and sees the trench coat swoop in front of him. Castiel doesn't even ask if he can join Sam anymore- simply takes the seat next to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sam doesn't fight it. He makes sure Castiel's coffee is ready for him, made the way he always orders it even though he hates it.
They aren't friends. After all; Sam knows nothing about Castiel and Castiel knows nothing about him. They are just two strangers who sit and sip their coffee, listening to some indie-folk song play from the radio behind the counter.
Sam has managed to convince Castiel to drink his coffee slower, and even though he grimaces with every sip, it makes the long silences less awkward. For which Sam is very grateful.
"So where are you from?" Sam asks, looking up from his assigned readings to glance at the stoic man across from him. It's their fifth time on break together and Castiel still stares at him as if he were reading a fascinating, if slightly bewildering, book.
"Far away." is all Castiel says. He doesn't ask where Sam is from, and Sam isn't sure if he is relieved that he doesn't need to lie, or if he is upset that Castiel doesn't seem to care.
It's a strange relationship they develop.
They are sitting at their favourite window seats when Sam gets a glimpse of a black impala turning the corner and driving away. It's a kick in the gut and Sam feels all the breath leave him. Suddenly every repressed emotion and memory comes flooding back and the keen sense of loss overwhelms him.
"Are you okay?" Castiel asks. Sam can't even look at him, blinking away the tears and trying to calm his anxious heart beat, Sam just nods. "You seem upset."
"I'm fine. Just thought I saw something that's all," Sam says, finally feeling calm enough to face Castiel's impassive face. Sam is surprised to see Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm fine."
Castiel tilts his head and continues staring. Sam turns away from him because he doesn't want anyone to know. No one can know that his own family had abandoned him. That they had turned their backs on him; disowned him for going to school and pursuing his dreams.
A phone rings and Sam is surprised to notice it is Castiel's. He had never seen the other man with a cell phone before.
"Hello?" he answers. "Yes.... Yes.... Yes...."
Castiel hangs up his phone.
"Who is that?" Sam asks, curious and happy to think of something other than the Impala and who might have been driving it.
"My brother, Gabriel," Castiel says.
"I didn't realize you had a brother."
"I have lots of brothers, and sisters."
"How many?"
"Hundreds."
Sam throws his head back and laughs, "So a big family then?"
"Yes."
Castiel fidgets suddenly with his trench coat, a very emotional move from someone who seems so disconnected. Sam watches the fingers twitch in fascination.
"Gabriel," Castiel finally starts to say, "has been helping me out recently."
Sam wants to ask for more, but then he thinks of how Castiel had not pressured him to talk about what had upset him earlier and really- he doesn't actually know the man at all other than that he drinks coffee he hates and that he seems to have only one set of clothing. So Sam doesn't ask, choosing to let both of them hide behind the silence.
There's a pounding on his dorm room door. On the other side is Jess, in sweats, hair in a messy ponytail and several coolers in one hand. Sliding past Sam, she jumps onto the bed and passes Sam a cooler. Dean would never drink such a girly drink, but he's not Dean and it's Jess, so he lets himself enjoy the sickly sweet beverage.
"We should have a Buffy marathon." Jess says, sitting beside him on the single cot that was shoved into his dorm room.
"Yeah," Sam mutters, still not used to being able to admit to liking shows like that without being mocked.
"So, how's Castiel doing?" Jess asks.
"How would I know?"
"I don't know, maybe because you've been going on every break with him for the past month," Jess says. "Seriously though, he's kind of hot and he is definitely interested, and you should completely put a move on him."
"What makes you think I would even be interested?" Sam asks defensively. He can feel the defensive walls coming up; a lifetime of hiding who he is because it isn't something that would ever be acceptable for a hunter. If the others had known about his ... preferences it would not have been good. He can't even imagine what Dean would say. Or his father.
"Because you aren't blind and he's hot." Jess teases.
"I never said I was gay." Sam snaps.
"Whoa, I ... guess not, sorry, I ..." Jess looks down, not able to meet his glare.
Feeling guilty, Sam stared at his fruity cooler.
"Are you?" Jess asks tentatively.
"Am I what?" Sam asks.
"Are you gay?"
Sam feels his stomach tighten and clench painfully as his heart goes into overdrive. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no- to laugh it off and talk about women and how he and his brother used to pick up chicks all the time, but this is Jess, who had barged into his life and turned everything around, who made the loss of his family so much easier by being his first friend ... ever. He can’t lie to her. Not anymore than he already is.
"Yes." Sam whispers, his voice hoarse as though it hasn't been used.
"Are you okay?" Jess asks quietly.
"No."
"Hey, come here." Jess wraps her arms around him and Sam lets himself be engulfed in a hug so warm and comforting, he wonders if anyone had ever held him this way since he is six months old. Even though he’s a hunter and had faced monsters most people would never believe in, right in that moment he feels protected by Jess' slender arms. "It's okay. It's fine to like guys. Hell, I like them too. I'm sorry for pushing Trench Coat on you. I just want you to be happy and I hate that you are always alone."
"I'm not alone," Sam says, leaning back a bit and away from Jess' hug. "I have you."
"You'll always have me," Jess promises. "You would be a mess without me."
"So you think Castiel is into me?" Sam says, trying to get back to the focus of the situation.
"He would have to be an idiot not to be," Jess says, nudging his arm lightly and smiling encouragingly. "And if you need help with that, I promise to always be available as a wing man."
Sam laughs and takes a gulp from the coolers.
Despite Jess' ongoing insistence that Castiel is in fact secretly lusting after Sam, nothing seems to really be changing since coming out for the first time. The world doesn't end; Jess doesn't treat him any differently and Castiel still turns up as if he has a sixth sense for when Sam's breaks were and they sit in companionable silence and enjoy their cups of coffee.
Part Two (Skinny Latte) ll Part Three (Chai Tea Latte)