5D808E - Destiel

Chapter 4

Oh, how those green eyes haunted him.

Haunted might not be the right word. The sharpness of them sent shivers to places that shall never see the light of day.

And they just kept coming back. For a solid week, the green-eyed man came in, looking around inconspicuously until he found Castiel, and when he did his face burnt bright and his gaze was cast askew.

That short period of eye contact made Castiel's heart hammer. He was in deep. But in the dead of night, when the room was filled with nothing but the soft snores coming from Tofu, he finally would think.

He didn't know the green-eyed man and the man didn't know him. It was quite ignorant, he thought, to love a stranger. He could be a serial killer and Castiel was his next victim. He, in the long run, honestly had no chance. But unfortunately, Castiel seems to be the optimist in this story.

On Sunday, the least busy day for the café, Castiel used all his confidence, which he built in the time span of the last week, and slid into the booth opposite of the green-eyed man. He spoke without thinking, which he would come to appreciate later, "I'm starting to think you're coming here just for me."

Both Castiel and the green-eyed man flushed heavily, Castiel regretting his decision to sit down in the first place. He had no clue what the green-eyed man thought. They say eyes are the window to the soul. Not for this man. His eyes were clouded like a window on a cold day. Perhaps Castiel could clear them.

The green-eyed man cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, "I have no clue what's given you that thought."

Castiel's face fell slightly but he remained determined. Time to spit facts. "You walk in here, every day I might add, and seem uncomfortable until you see me. I've been told you've specifically asked for me," He grinned widely, crow's feet spreading next to his eyes, "Seems to me like I'm the reason you are here."

The green-eyed man flushed harder and flitted his eyes to the table. It gave Castiel a good moment to look at him, and holy shit. His eyes were even greener than Castiel originally thought. The man had what looked like millions of freckles across his face, the kind that Castiel had the irrational urge to kiss each one. The man's eyelashes caressed the tops of his cheeks, casting shadows across his face. He could've been a model if not for that incredibly sad energy he gave off.

Model boy finally looked up, his cheeks beet red, "What if I have?"

Castiel's grin grew wider, "Then I'd ask your name."

Freckles finally smiled as well, eyes crinkling, "Dean Winchester."

Castiel's face began to match Dean's blush, "Hello, Dean. I'm Castiel Novak."

The two of them spoke until the café closed. Castiel found that Dean was twenty-nine years old, his favourite colour was blue, he worked in the office across the street, and yes, if he used labels, he would use bisexual. That man was perfect in every way, Castiel thought.

Last thing they spoke of before they departed, a date for the following week.