Destiel One Shots

I Don't Understand That Reference AU

"Don't you love me anymore?! Is that it? Is that why...?!"

"I swear, it's not like that!"

"And all those times you said you loved me, you were screwing her! How dare you!"

"I..."

"Just as I thought. Nothing to say. I thought you would break my heart one day. Never knew it would be so soon."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You know what, you can get out of here."

"I'm-"

Dean was on the edge of the stool, poised for the next line. Dr. Sexy was going to proclaim his love to Dr. Juliana this episode - he had to. It'd been going on forever!

But unfortunately Dean's viewing time was cut short with the shriek of Charlie Bradbury's voice. "Hey, Winchester! We're open, so get your ass out here now!"

Sighing, Dean turned his phone off and took out his headphones. Tucking them into his pocket, he jumped down with a spring in his steps before making his way into the counter.

"What's got you?" Charlie nudged him.

"Dr. Sexy. Last nights episode. He's just so...perfect. I can't believe Dr. Juliana thinks he's cheating on her. After all these seasons!"

Charlie rolled her eyes dramatically. "It's just a tv show, Dean."

"How dare you?!"

"I'm joking. That would be very hypocritical of me. Yeah, I'm not over Gilda from Fantasy Of Nightingale," she sighed, her eyes glazed and staring out of the window as if her celebrity crush would fly through it and rescue her.

"Right," Dean eventually said.

He had work to do.

In and out came customers, most boring, some hot, some weird in a good way...others, well, it's safe to say not in a good way.

It approached around midday, the sun was high, the colours of city life outside the café were vibrant and complimentary to the shops design. Dean grinned to himself, breathing in the fresh air every time the door opened.

It's not that he hated this job that made him want to quit: he loved every aspect of it here. He just felt like his mind was better off working someplace else. The where was yet to be found.

While Dean was daydreaming, a man entered through and looked slightly out of place.

Dean waited behind the counter and watched closely to the man approaching.

He had hair with no style; it was simply a short raven mess. And his clothing style was like he was going for the ancient-languages-lecturer-at-college aesthetic. The dark blue skinny jeans that were very worn down; the dark off-brown jacket; thin rimmed glasses; his 'I haven't shaved in a week' beard; simply everything about him was a disheveled mess of a professor.

"Excuse me, can I have a medium cappuccino, sir?" His voice was rough and deeper than Dean had ever heard someone near enough his age speak. But it was like a purring engine almost, very sensual too.