Cupid's a Lousy Shot -A Destiel Fanfic-

The Man Who Held the Universe

"I'll help you find someone."
He says
Earthy eyes colliding with ocean irises
The birth of each other's worlds.
"Okay."
He says
He looks away.
xx

It started at Harvelle's. One of few places that time had yet to corrupt with its melding touch, aged like the fine whiskey smell that wafted throughout the city air.
On the walls, hung monochrome portraits of the deceased, those whose melodies still resonated throughout the bustling diner and spoke to the living beyond the grave. Today, the speakers conjured the soft lullaby of Elvis Presley, only disturbed by hushed buzz of chatter  and the rhythmic click of the checkered tiles as the chiseled faced man neared the counter.
"Hey, if it isn't the Matchmaker himself." A middle aged, doe eyed woman addressed, the owner of the joint.
The man flashed his pearly whites into a crooked, remorseful grin that refused to meet his eyes.
"Dean Winchester." The doe-eyed woman began in a scolding, motherly tone, "We've missed our poster boy. Next time tell me before you go for a jump off the face of the earth, you hear me, kid?"
"Y-Yes M'aam." Dean responded in a wavering, mousy tone that made obvious his immense sense of respect. After the fire that had devastated his family, she was the closest thing to a mother that he had.
"Good. " Ellen nodded, cracking open a beer and pouring the contents into a glass that she slid over to Dean. The same as always, a soft, mild liquor, if his father had taught him anything, it was that getting drunk wasn't pretty, and he didn't have the urge to find out what demons of his surfaced under the influence.
"So who've you brought with you today?" The woman asked as if she expected it, leaning her weight over  the counter top.
"Bachelor's cancelled." Dean slanted his head to the side, elevating the drink to his lips, tasting a hint of toffee in the distilled alcohol.
"Damn, bummer...No Valentine's Day special?" Ellen contemplated, brow furrowing. She wasn't wrong, it was February, by now, everyone was waiting for the blankets of snow to give way to flowerbeds, and the stores were adorned in various assortments of chocolate and paper hearts. It meant practically nothing to Dean however, his father had never been around to celebrate holidays, and he'd never felt obliged to celebrate it with his younger brother. To him, the 14th was just another day, but to others, it had meaning, and it was a bit odd that Dean didn't have a case.It was almost disappointing, since Valentine's Day seemed to hype up the love factor. He figured there'd be at least one jock or bookworm in need.
"3 o'clock." Ellen intercepted coolly , gaze fixated  behind his robust frame at something-someone, it was clearly an orientational remark.
Dean squared his jawline , allowing her words to set in for a moment before tracing her eyes to one of the scarlet booths behind him to find the man she'd hinted at. He  was still, as if all motion had been rung out of him like water droplets embedded cloth-well,  except for the periodic twiddle of thumbs, the only part of him that hinted at life. Most of all, his lean frame was maintained straighter than it should've been, and he looked flat out  uptight.
"Him?" Dean pointed directly at the strange figure and Ellen's eyes shadowed her alarm. "Guy sticks out like a sore thumb, quite literally." He chuckled under his breath.

"Oh my god Dean, don't point!" She half scolded, half laughed, cased in embarrassment as Dean smiled in satisfaction. After a second of taking it in with an amused grin, he allowed his hand fall back to his side.

"He's been coming here same time every day for a week now, but all he ever orders is coffee with a side of self loathing." Ellen grumbled between a sip of liquor.
"Self loathing, huh?" Dean propped his head up with an arm as he eased back into his chair.
"Thought you'd know a thing or two about that." The expression faded from Dean's face as he raised his eyebrows at Ellen as if to say "really?".
"Wait..." Dean furrowed his brow involuntarily, studying the figure. He seemed like he should've been familiar.

He gritted his teeth in concentration, combing through his scrambled thoughts.
Castiel Novak.
It was a shot in the dark, but he looked the age and matched  the striking image that the girls back on campus depicted flawlessly.