Angeles

Cas is just about to head to bed when Gabriel comes in the door of their apartment.

"Dude!" Gabe yells. "Why'd you leave?"

"Because I'd prefer to not make a fool of myself." After a second, Cas adds, "Again."

Gabe rolls his eyes. "Did you know that he asked for you afterwards?"

Cas perks up a little bit, and bites his lip to conceal the smile that's starting to spread across his face. "He did?"

"Yes, you idiot. But don't worry; I gave him your number."

"You did what?" Cas yells.

Gabe crosses into their small living room and plops down on the worn couch. "I gave him your number. He'll probably call or text you someone tomorrow. You're welcome."

"You're impossible!" Cas groans. He retreats into his bedroom, closing the door loudly behind him.

The next morning, Cas wakes to his cell phone buzzing, an incoming call from an unknown number. Cas tries not to groan as he answers, expecting it to be Dean Winchester.

"Hello?" Cas asks hesitantly.

"Hello, I'm calling for a Castiel Novak," a woman says.

So it's not Dean. Cas isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"This is he," he sighs.

"Hi, Castiel. My name is Naomi Milton; I'm with the law firm representing Mr. Shurley's estate."

Cas sits up, his interest piqued. Chuck Shurley was the owner of the library Cas worked at. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm sure by now you've heard that Mr. Shurley is missing."

"No, I haven't, actually." This was true. "Last I heard, he was on vacation. Somewhere in Illinois."

"He was." She emphasizes the past tense. "However, no one has seen him days. He's shown on security footage at the hotel he was staying at as leaving one day and not returning. He hasn't even checked out."

Cas shakes his head, trying to understand. "So why are you calling me?"

"Mr. Shurely's will clearly states his property being left to your care. I need you to come down to my office to sign a few documents for me, granting you temporary ownership until Mr. Shurley is found."

Cas nods to himself. "Yeah. Okay, sure. When?"

"My next available appointment is Thursday at noon. Does that work for you?"

"Yes. That will be fine. Thank you, Mrs. Milton."

"I'll see you on Thursday, Mr. Novak." The lawyer hangs up.

Cas sets his phone down and runs his hand through his hair, unsure of what to think. Chuck had left Castiel in charge of the bookstore while he was on vacation, but he didn't realize that he was meant to inherit the building. He exhales, standing up.

Cas exits his room, the faint sound of his brother's snoring emanating from the master bedroom. He goes for the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee.

Cas is pouring a bowl of cereal when Gabriel emerges from his room, yawning and stretching his arms out. He has some serious bedhead, and Cas can't help but laugh at it.

"Like you look any better," Gabe retorts. He sits down at the small table in the compact kitchen across from Cas. "So did lover boy call yet?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Cas rolls his eyes. "No. And I don't think he will."

"Why not? He was into you."

Cas pulls the half gallon of milk from their refrigerator and twists the cap off to pour it over his breakfast. "I seriously doubt that." He puts the cap back and returns the milk.

"See? That's your issue. You have no self confidence."

"That is not true," Cas argues.

"Oh, yeah, okay," Gabe scoffs. "Name one time you displayed your ego."

Cas pauses for a moment to think. "Well there was last night."

"What, when you talked to that waitress? That doesn't count, dude."

"Not that." He shrugged his shoulders. "I went out with you in the first place. You know I hate bars."

Gabe's jaw goes slack in shock. "You're joking, right? Just the act of leaving the apartment is your big display of confidence? That's weak, bro, even for you." Gabe stands up and crosses to the fridge, pulling out the orange juice. He takes a swig straight out of the carton, to which Cas scrunches his nose.

"I also didn't wear my coat," Cas adds between bites of his cereal.

Gabe returns the juice and reaches towards the back for a half-eaten slice of marble cake. "Good. That thing makes you look like a tax accountant."

Cas huffs before he swallows the left over milk from his bowl. He stands and washes his dishes immediately before setting them in the drying rack.

"You know, I still don't get why you do that," Gabe comments, his mouth full. Cas notices a frosting mustache on his upper lip, but doesn't say anything.

"Because then it doesn't sit in the sink for days, unlike your dishes," Cas states.

"My dishes don't sit in the sink for days. Maybe just one or two."

"No. They don't. Because I can't sleep until I know that all the dishes are clean." Cas crosses the kitchen to make way for the bathroom.

"Oh yeah. See? My dishes don't sit there. You do them. Without being asked, I might add." Gabe raises his eyebrows to accentuate his point.

Cas rolls his eyes and stands in front of the vanity. He brushes his teeth, then washes his face. He examines his jaw, trying to decide if he needs to shave yet or if he can survive with the little bit of stubble he has. He decides to just leave it, and goes back into his bedroom. He hears Gabe drop his plate in the sink and he rolls his eyes again. So much of what his brother does and says is worthy of his eye rolling.

Cas checks the time on the little digital clock sitting on his nightstand, realizing he still has over an hour before he has to be at the bookstore. He sighs and goes to scan the small, but very full, bookshelf in the corner by the window. He grabs the much read copy of Elie Wiesel's Night. He leans back on his bed and starts from the beginning.

By the time he's nearly a third of the way finished, he notices the time and sighs. It's time to get ready for work. He dog-ears the page he's on and sets it on his pillow. Cas crosses to his closet and pulls light blue button down from a plastic hanger. On the other side of the closet, he grabs a pair of black jeans. They're nice enough to pass as slacks, but they are definitely more comfortable. Finally, he grabs one of his many reference tees to wear under his button down. Today he goes with a light gray Star Wars tee of C-3PO saying "Let the Wookie win." He changes out of his plain white tee shirt and green flannel pajama pants and into his clothes for the day.

Gabe is laying on the couch, watching TV and chewing on caramels when Cas passes through.

"Off to work, baby bro?" Gabe asks, his tongue sticking slightly to the roof of his mouth.

"Yeah. Don't eat all the candy," Cas demands. He slips into his shoes and heads out the door.

As he nears the bookstore, he spots the cafe next door and realizes that he forgot to grab coffee on his way out. He had it made and everything, but he forgot it. Figures. He stands there, staring at the open doors, the scent of coffee and baked goods mixing into the fresh air, deliberating whether or not to just bite the bullet and buy a cup. He decides against it. He can always duck over if he changes his mind.

He pulls out the key to the store and unlocks it, reveling in the scent of new books as the door swings open. Even though he smells it every day, he doesn't know if he'll ever get over it. There's something about unopened pages that gives off the most beautiful fragrance. He breathes deeply and crosses over to the counter. He's grabbing the cash tray from the safe in the office behind the counter when he hears the little bell over the front door ring.

"We don't open until nine," he calls, carrying the tray out to the register. He nearly drops it when he sees who just walked in.

"Hey, Cas, right?"

Cas has a hard time finding words as he stares at Dean Winchester.

"Um, if you're not open yet, I can come back," Dean says, sensing awkwardness.

Cas opens his mouth to speak, but finds that words don't come out.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes!" Cas practically shouts. Dean jumps slightly. "Yes, I...I am fine. But, no, we're...we're not open yet."

"So I should come back in like...ten minutes?" Dean turns his very well built body towards the door.

"Um, yes. That...that would be a-a good idea," Cas stammers. Cas, you idiot! he thinks to himself.

"Okay, that's cool. I'll just duck into the coffee shop next door." Dean steps back out onto the sidewalk, the bell tinging again. Cas lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Smooth one, Novak," he sighs to himself. He slides open the register drawer and sets the cash tray inside. He quickly checks to make sure the correct amount is inside, even though he always does before he closes as well. He closes the drawer and it locks automatically. He does a quick walk through of the store and makes sure all the shelves look neat. He turns the two-sided sign in the window so the outside reads 'Open'. Before he's even back at the counter, the bell is ringing. He turns to greet the customer, only to meet those emerald eyes that have been haunting him all night.

"Hey," Dean sighs. "So, I'm back." He shrugs. Cas notices that he's holding two cups from the cafe next door. Dean walks towards Cas, thrusting one of the cups forward. "I saw you staring at the shop and thought maybe you'd like a cup. I don't know your order, so I just got you a latte. I figured, even people who don't like coffee like lattes, so that's what I did," he babbles.

"I usually just drink it black," Cas notices the slight panic on Dean's face, so he quickly adds, "but a latte is great!" He takes the cup from the guitar player. "Thank you. How much do I owe you for it?"

"Nothing, it's on me," Dean answers.

Cas's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Are you sure? I can pay you back; it's not that big of an issue."

"No, I...I wanted to. It's on me, seriously. Especially because I wasn't able to buy you a drink after my show last night." Dean ducks his head a little so he's gazing directly into Cas's eyes.

"I, um, I...yeah, I..." Cas stutters. He's not sure exactly what to say to that.

Dean takes a quick step backwards. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Sorry. I just...I saw the way you were watching me last night and I thought... But, clearly, you're straight. Sorry. I'll, uh...I'll leave you alone now." Dean starts to walk away.

"I'm not!" Cas blurts before he can stop himself. Well. there's no turning back now. "I'm not straight. I'm...the opposite, actually. I'm gay."

Dean stops and turns slightly, but not all the way. "Oh. That's cool. But you're clearly not interested, so sorry to bother you. See you around, Cas."

"It's not that," Cas says, trying to get Dean to stay. "I am, I swear." He looks to the side, realizing how forward he was being. His teeth dig into his bottom lip. "I just didn't think you were."

Dean turns, a warm smile on your face. "Well, clearly, I am." He turns his smile into a smirk. "So what's the problem? Do I make you nervous or something?"

Cas just stares, unsure how to reply.

Dean chuckles, looking down at his boots. "I'll take that as a yes." Dean steps closer to Castiel, his eyes never leaving Cas's. "By the way, I love that shirt on you. It really brings out the blue in your eyes." Dean smirks at him again, then turns towards the door. "I'll see you around, Cas."

"Wait!" Cas calls. Dean stops and turns back to Cas. "Gabe said he gave you my number."

Dean bites his lip and looks down again. "Yeah, he did. But I didn't want to use it until I knew you wanted me to."

"Now you know."

Dean smiles, still looking down. He looks back up. "Yeah, I guess I do. I'll call you later."

"Okay."

"Okay." Dean starts for the door again.

"Thanks for the coffee, by the way," Cas quickly adds.

"You're welcome. I'll see you later." And Dean leaves, the bell ringing again.