"I'm telling you Zachariah, if you walk out of this deal, you will get Hell over this." Castiel Novak pleaded, holding his phone between this ear and shoulder, opening his car door. He stepped out, grabbing his stuff from the passengers seat. "Yes- no-" he said, "Zachariah, Samandriel personally told me-" he got cut off again. "Zach-" his client kept rambling over the phone. Castiel rolled his eyes, and kicked the door shut behind him, holding his laptop bag in one hand, and his papers in the other. He stood still.

"Zachariah-" He tried to get in between his angry rant. "Oh, screw you" he mumbled and ended the call. "He was a hopeless case anyway."

He grabbed his things together- as far as that went- and set foot to his morning stop. Every morning he went to the local coffee shop, to get his necessary shot of caffeine. He loved the place, even though he was always in, and back out again in two minutes. The barista knew him, and his ever-same order. It wasn't that busy today. Normally there was a line, or there were some teens and a few business men sitting in one of the large sofas. It looked like he was the only one there.

Castiels phone rang when he tried to open the door. Clumsily plucking it out of his pocket he tried to open the door with his shoulder, nearly dropping all his papers and documents. A bystander tried to help. "No, I got this." He said. After several tries, dropped documents and a few rings later he gave up.

He leaned against the door once more, beaten, and only now the old wooden door moved, and swung open. It creaked in his hinges. Castiel fell through, dropping his bag and documents, his phone scattering to the other side of the coffee shop.

"I don't got this." He muttered, awkwardly standing up, ignoring the stares. Suddenly he heard a bellowing laugh. Castiel looked up, his face like a storm. He was having a bad day already, and he was ready to explode any second.

The coffee shop fell silent again. The only one in the shop was the barista, stealing glances while cleaning the counter.

Castiel glared around once more and gathered his stuff. He grabbed his phone and threw it in his bag. He straightened his trench coat and stuffed his documents in his bag too. He needed his coffee. Now.

"The usual." He grumbled to the barista, rumbling through his bag, looking for his phone. Where was that thing?

"The usual? Sorry, I'm new here." The barista answered.

Great. Castiel looked up. "Double espresso cho.." He trailed off. He quickly refound his voice. "Double espresso choc. Extra whipped cream. No caramel."

The barista nodded, and after a small chuckle he went to work. Castiel watched him blend the coffee, do all the stuff he couldn't at home.

He was about his age, with dirty blonde hair swept up in a stylish hairdo, which looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He was wearing a green apron, gorgeously matching with his apple green eyes, to dream away in. Out of his black shirt came two strong arms, looking like he was used to hard work. Quickly glancing over the counter when the barista was turned around Castiel saw he was wearing worn down jeans and sturdy shoes.

Castiel chuckled softly. This guy was the complete opposite of him, worn down jeans and a waistcoat, sturdy shoes and a designer suit. Somehow it didn't bother him. It.. attracted him.. somehow. Castiel shook his head. He wasn't normally like this.

Pull yourself together.

"Done." The barista said, and set the cup on the counter. "I put an extra shot in it. Looked like you needed it. No charge." He winked. He turned around and went back to work.

Castiel picked up the cup and walked back to his car. When he sat back in his car he looked at the cup.

There was a number scribbled on it, and under that;

Call me - Dean.