Sure enough, Cas was right on time to pick up the Lincoln. It was nearing 1 in the afternoon, and Dean was perched on his work table, covered in grease and grime from the morning's task, eating a sandwich and waiting for him to arrive. The man in question walked through the door from the lobby and stopped, staring at his car. It looked... good. He hated to admit it, he hated the stupid grease covered Dean and how he didn't put up with any crap, how he made Castiel feel out of place.
"Well? What do you think? She looks good right ?" Cas jumped, looking up and behind his car, to where Dean was sitting. He had to admit, the guy looked good all messy. Cas nodded approvingly.
"It looks really great, you didn't have to go to all that trouble, I just needed her running." Cas caught himself. Earlier, he'd found it weird how the other man kept calling his car 'her'. Yet here he was, talking about it like it was some woman.
"You might've needed her running, but she needed a bit more." Dean had been finished his food and wiped his hands on his oil stained jeans, hopping off the table and walking around the car to Castiel, patting her hood on his way by.
"So, how much will it be? Including your generous tip of course." Cas let his sarcasm coat his last words, casting Dean a scowl. The other man just chuckled, pointing a thumb to the lobby behind them.
"I left the slip up there with Bobby, he's running the front today. He'll ring you up, and you can leave my tip up there too. Be good to her, she's not a bad car." Dean walked passed, shoulder barely brushing Castiel's back, but the slight touch made him shiver. What was this stupid smartass doing to him? Cas stiffened at the slight touch, sparks shooting down his spine. After a pause, he shook his head. The stupid grease monkey better not have stained his coat.

      When 3 o'clock rolled around, Dean was just finishing up his last job for the day. He pulled himself out from underneath the 68' Mustang he'd been tending since Cas had left. His mind had been a bit off all day, but he pushed thoughts of the stupid man in the weird trench coat out of his head. He rubbed his hands on an already stained rag and dealt with the last customer before cleaning things up. He had to get to the pub before 4, when the old folks started coming around for dinner. Ellen, Jo and Ash would've been there since noon, cooking when necessary and tending bar. Jo was a great bartender, not as good as Dean, but she could hold her own, and Ellen cooked better than anyone in the entire world, Dean was sure. Ash hung around for Jo, he'd been pining after the girl since he left school, but Jo liked to play hard to get, and Ash looked like a lost puppy, always staring out of the kitchen and watching her work her magic behind the bar.

      Dean parked and walked inside. Ash and Jo were in a heated argument over the right way to wipe down the mugs, and Ellen was close to beating the both of them. Dean smiled at his little family and tossed a bar cloth over his shoulder, shoving the two out of his way and wiping down the bar once more before the usuals arrived. He could smell Ellen's food wafting out from the kitchen and it nearly made his mouth water. Slowly, the old folks started trailing in, wives pointing frail fingers at Dean, scolding him for letting their husbands stay out so late the night before. Dean took it in stride, laughing softly and patting the ladies' hands. Even they had all fallen victim to the eldest Winchester's deadly charm. Bobby trailed in not long after, and he had a smirk on his scruffy face that Dean didn't entirely trust. He brushed it off for now as he started pouring drinks, watching Jo and Ellen serve the regulars in their booths. The door opened as Sammy pushed in, he was always late. He ran his own law office on the other side of town, and always stopped off at home to change before coming by. When he first started, he'd come straight there from work, in his fancy suits with cufflinks, taking jabs from his family. He stopped doing that right away.

    "So, you left in such a rush earlier that I didn't get a chance to give you your tips." Bobby had a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth as he took a long pull from his beer. Bobby and Sam were seated at the bar. It'd died down since the dinner rush, a few people scattered around, but it was the usual quiet Sunday night at the Roadhouse.
"Okay, lay it on me. How rich am I today?" Dean tossed his cloth over his shoulder, suspiciously appraising the man in front of him as he pulled out an envelope to hand to Dean. Slowly, feeling 2 pairs of eyes burning into his skull, he opened it. And was not disappointed.
"I guess you really fixed up that guys car, huh Dean?" Bobby chuckled at Dean's bewildered expression. No one had ever left that much money as a tip, and there was one of the yellow sticky notes from the front desk stuck to the first bill. Dean slowly pulled it out and felt his cheeks betraying him, heating up and turning his face bright red. Before he could stop him, Sammy had pulled the small square of yellow from his hand and started laughing.
"You got slipped a phone number? My God Dean he just asked you to fix his car, what did you do?" Dean pulled the paper back and scoffed. The 2 men were laughing now, making snide jokes. They knew Dean rolled both ways, and were usually fine with it, but that didn't mean that Dean didn't get his own fair share of jabs sometimes. He stuffed the phone number into the envelope, pushing the contents into his coat pocket hanging behind the bar.
He hated that stupid Cas, right? Then why was his stomach knotted and why did he feel a surge of pleasure at the neat number that was burning a hole through his coat pocket?