The Bodega Boy

let's talk

Dean's POV

    
     When Dean had left the bodega that night his heart had been in his throat. He feels bad for lying, but it wasn't like he could tell the man his actual name. He had buckled up as soon as he was in his car but waits a minute. He isn't sure if he should check that receipt at home. For one, Sam might be awake by the time he gets back. Dean digs through the bag and gets the receipt out. The hand writing is a mixture between print and cursive, but readable. The first thing listed is a number, and then a short note.

    Hey, text me sometime?
Castiel N.

Ps. If you like Dean's whiskey lullaby you should also listen to 'The Drugs Don't Work', by The Verve.

    
     Dean smiled lightly, he'd heard the song before, and as far as music recommendations went it was a pretty solid choice. His smile slowly fades though. Sam has a point about the tour. In a little less than two weeks he wasn't gonna be in state anymore. Was it wise to text this guy? To be fair it was just texting. It wasn't like they were gonna hang out in person. If it came up in conversation he could just say he was moving. He was feeling lonely and craved a genuine social connection. Even if it was a temporary one. He decided to just pocket the slip of paper for now and decide if he was gonna text it later.

     The drive to the hotel was nerve wracking, Dean was worried the whole time that San may have woken up and saw he wasn't there. Dean would probably be more carefully monitored by the body guard if he was caught. Luckily for him when he carefully opens their rooms door and steps inside all the lights are still off and there's sound of light snoring. Dean sighs in relief. He gets back in his pajamas and heads to the bathroom, then gets settled back into bed.

    He tries to sleep, really does. Gives it a fair shot, but he can't stop thinking about that receipt in his hoodie pocket. After a bit he caves, sits up and grabs his hoodie to dig around in his pocket. When he has it he types the number into its own contact and sends out a reluctant text. He sees the time after he sends it and gets a bit flustered. He puts his phone face down on the bed. It was almost six a.m already, this guy was gonna think he was nuts. Before he can overthink it too much though, he gets a text. He scrambled to pick his phone back up when it buzzed, and his smile returns at the message. It seems a bit cheeky, like the man is more comfortable talking over text than in life. To be fair, he'd been on the clock. He could be completely different outside of work.  He knew next to nothing about this guys, other than that he had siblings. He wondered how many Castiel had.

//Seems like it, the verve is a good choice. I listened to it on the way to my place//  he texted back to castiels response, a bit

//I'm glad you like it 😊 //

//You get home safe?//

//Yeah, took my bike home. You?//

//Yeah. Thanks for asking//

//No problem. Out of curiosity, what brings you into the store so late? Or um, early  😅 working late nights?//

   Dean stares at the last text for a moment, debating on how he wants to respond. He can't exactly tell all of the truth, but he could tell part of it.

//Yeah actually, more like all days. I deal with people mostly, and don't have a lot of time for food//

//I getcha//
//How far was the drive?//