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Castiel met Dean at a coffee shop.
It was open all night and it was close to the dorms, so understandably, it was always full of sleep-deprived students.
It didn’t hurt that they offered free wifi and served a decent cup of coffee (decent as in that it didn’t taste like it came out of a sewer like the one sold by the vending machine in his dorm), so it was no wonder that Castiel often found himself spending his nights there, working on his assignments and despairing over the proper term to describe a certain family of beetles that only existed in a small village in China or whether he would be triggering an international conflict if he chose to use the official English name of a country as listed on their government’s website versus the translation the UN had opted for instead.
He would have much preferred to agonize over these issues in the comfort of his own room, but his brother had kicked him out hours ago, claiming he had a “hot date” coming over and how he was afraid Castiel and his perpetually grumpy expression and his professional uniform (Castiel’s ever present pajamas) would scare them away.
So Castiel had taken a quick shower and emptied the premises, not so much because he was a good brother but because he really had to finish this translation and the last thing he needed was to try and do that with the sound of Gabriel and his guest having loud, enthusiastic sex as his background music (Gabriel did not often have the decency to warn him before one such event, so Castiel was uncomfortably familiar with the tune).
He was well into his third espresso and immersed in the wonderful world of terminology research when a sound made him look up from his laptop. A young man who couldn't have been older than him stood by his booth, shifting awkwardly on his feet as he valiantly struggled to keep a grip on his laptop, a big cup of coffee and what looked like a slice of the coffee shop's signature pie on his arms.
"Hey, mind if I sit here?" He attempted to gesture around with his shoulder -- which was both very ineffective and amusing considering how hard he was clearly working not to drop anything. "All the other tables are taken."
Castiel wasn't sure whether this was the best of ideas. After all, he'd gotten out of his apartment because he needed to get away from all distractions and here was one very attractive distraction (what? Castiel might be tired but he had eyes) directly asking him whether it could sit in front of him, where Castiel wouldn't be able to ignore it.
Before his brain could send out the signal ordering his body to tell this stranger that he was so, so sorry, but someone would be joining him shortly, Castiel's rebellious mouth took matters into its own hands, "You may sit."
What was he doing? This was a terrible, terrible idea. He still had 2,000 words to go and Professor Singer took his deadlines very, very seriously. But here he was, watching helplessly as the man shot him a grateful smile and proceeded to do as Castiel told him, setting down his things with a relieved sigh and opening his own laptop, leaning back against his seat while he waited for it to boot up, "Thanks, man. I have this project due tomorrow and my roommate's having some kind of geek party with all his friends, so they've taken over the living room and are playing this War Worldcraft game online -- I don't even know. I thought they'd be quiet and I'd be able to work since they all brought their laptops and aren't even looking at each other, but apparently not healing your party fast enough is some kind of geek crime that means you get yelled at a lot."
"World of Warcraft." Castiel corrected without thinking, surprising even himself. Why was he still talking? He should really let this conversation die. Dean was looking at him in confusion, so he cleared his throat and tried to ignore the flush he could feel currently taking over his face, "The game your roommate is playing is called World of Warcraft." Well. His mouth was already out of control, might as well earn himself some peace of mind. Pointedly keeping his eyes on his screen, he added quietly. "And healing is an essential part of raiding. It is a very important job to be given -- the fate of the entire party often depends on the healer's speed and sound judgment."
There was silence for a moment and a part of Castiel was glad for it, because maybe if he had managed to freak out the handsome stranger, he would finally be left alone to bury himself in this translation so he wouldn't have to think about his inability to control his mouth around some guy whose name he didn't even know.
The chuckle brought him out of his thoughts, but it was the warm laughter that drew his eyes back across the booth, and Castiel couldn't help being a little startled when a hand was offered to him over the table, accompanied by a criminally handsome grin and amused green eyes, "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to badmouth your favorite game. Name's Dean."
Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat and fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, "There is no reason to apologize. My brother was obsessed with it when we were in high school and insisted I join to accompany him on his many adventures. It often ended in tragedy, as he was not very fond of discussing strategy before running into a dungeon. I much prefer the simplicity of Scrabble." Dean's hand was still right there in front of him and Castiel had completely forgotten about it (made all the more obvious when Dean lifted his eyebrows at him and wiggled his fingers meaningfully when he saw him looking), so Castiel hurried to shake it, "Castiel. My name is Castiel."
Dean's smile only got bigger, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Cas."
"It's Castiel."
Dean pointedly ignored him, "So, Cas, have you ever tried the pie in this place? It's really out of this world."
They didn't leave for hours and neither one of them got much work done.
But when Castiel had to set his alarm clock for 5 am the next morning so he could wake up early to finish his assignment, he did so with a smile on his face (and a new number in his phone).