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He stared at the wisps of steam coming off of the coffee, his eyes following each one as it dissipated in the air. He let out a soft breath, his thumb stroking over the soft porcelain of the mug he cradled in his hands. His mind was a mess of swirling thoughts, mirroring the patterns of the creamer twisting and mixing through the dark drink before him. He raised the mug to his lips, taking a small, tentative sip of the bitter, slightly sweet, liquid.
Gross. He wrinkled his nose, pushing the mug away from him and drumming his fingers on the wooden table beneath his hand. His eyes drifted to the window, a soft light spilling out from a gap in the curtains and illuminating the kitchen in an early morning gold.
"Sammy!" His older brother entered the room, unusually cheerful for as early as it was. He took Sam's mug when the younger man didn't look up at him from where he was sat at the kitchen table. He nudged Sam's shoulder with the warm mug, finally getting his attention. Sam huffed, looking up at his brother from behind overgrown bangs.
"How'd it go?" He asked, taking a sip of Sam's coffee. He looked entirely too smug, the bastard.
"Fine, Dean…" Sam grumbled, bracing his hands on the table to push himself back, his chair making a scraping sound on the tiled floor. Dean winced. Sam stood.
"That good, huh?" Dean frowned apologetically, but Sam knew him well enough to see through the false sympathy.
"That good." Sam rolled his eyes, taking the mug back from Dean and ignoring the annoyed sound his brother made in response "Get your own coffee, jerk."
"You weren't even drinking it, bitch!" Dean protested but didn't earn more than an unamused glare for his efforts. He huffed, just a tad indignant. "I'll make my own..."
Sam nodded his approval, leaving the kitchen to go sit in his bedroom and mope for a while. He pushed his bedroom door open, frowning at the mess he was met with. He really should clean up, but instead he shut the door, set his mug on his desk, and flopped face first onto his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He turned his head, staring at his phone on his bedside table, which naturally brought on thoughts of the night before. He shuddered, pressing his face back into his pillow. The less he thought about it, the better.
That's never an easy task though.
"Sam," Jess, the girl he was seeing, had smiled sweetly, if not a bit guilty, "I really don't think we're a good match." And she was right, he knew she was because he had been ignoring her the whole date in favor of staring at his phone and waiting for a text from a certain somebody, but it still stung. Especially as it took away the best possible distraction for the real issue he was facing.
Castiel Novak.
He knew it was a bad idea to feel things for a man he met online. It was a one-way road to heartbreak at best, and downright dangerous at worst. Sam knew that, and yet he couldn't seem to get over his silly little crush on him. Everything about him just interested Sam. His voice, the way he dressed, the school he went to, how he seemed so genuinely interested in the things Sam had to say. (And that was rare. His whole life he'd been told to stop talking, but Castiel encouraged him!) He knew it was hopeless, but it wasn't going away any time soon.
Ping!
Sam didn't feel like checking his phone.
Ping!
He sighed, rolling onto his side and grabbing his phone.
'Hello, Sam :)'
Sam groaned. Of course it was Castiel. Impeccable timing, as always.
'How did the date go?'
Horrible, Sam wanted to say, she broke up with me.
But instead, all he sent was 'Okay.'
They texted back and forth for a while, Sam's heart rate increasing every time Castiel sent a message - or at least he felt like it did.
Sometimes Sam thought about just telling Castiel about his feelings, but the truth was that they didn't know each other in any form other then written messages and the occasional voice call with mic quality so bad Castiel could hardly understand him. But Sam heard Castiel loud and clear, every word he said resonating with Sam's very soul, echoing in his mind even days later. Okay, maybe he was a bit dramatic.
'Are you busy next weekend?'
No, of course he wasn't, but why did Castiel need to know that?
'Yes.' He sent back, despite the fact that his mind was screaming at him to say 'No, angel, please let me come visit.'
He refrained, ignoring the stupid thoughts, and the fantasies of finally seeing Castiel outside of the one blurry picture he'd been sent months ago, because why would Castiel want to see him in person? Of course he wouldn't. Don't entertain that thought, Sam-
Ping!
His internal scolding was cut off.
'Oh :('
Sam frowned at the message.
'I was hoping that perhaps we could make plans, but I understand.'
Oh.
Castiel only lived about 2 hours away, but they'd never made plans, both of their schedules too busy with college and family and part time jobs and the inherent fear of meeting a stranger from the internet in person. Was this his chance?
'I'll cancel my plans.' The plans that, in all honesty, didn't really exist.
'Are you sure?'
'Very.'
Oh my god, Sam thought to himself, dropping his phone onto the bed. He was really going to do it.
The next week was both too short and too long, Sam and Castiel talking every chance they got to plan Sam's little visit out to the other man's town. And soon enough, the weekend came.
Deep breathes, Sam thought, steadying himself as he stepped out of his uber into the parking lot of the local grocery store - meeting in a public place was safer, or so Dean told him.
His eyes landed on Castiel, who was leaning back against his truck and fidgeting nervously as he waited and- holy shit. He looked even more like an angel then Sam thought he would.
"Cas!" He called with a smile, getting the man's attention. He looked up at Sam; his bright blue eyes widened in mild surprise.
"Sam," He smiled back, standing up straight, meeting him halfway to the truck.
He was breathtaking.