Spray Cans and Coffee Cups

1: Paperwork And A Promise

     Castiel Novak slumped in his chair, head falling to rest on his desk. He loved being a cop- he really did- but the job wasn't all high-speed chases and arrests. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush, it wore off eventually, leaving Castiel lost and drowning in endless paperwork. God, there was so much of it. Cas groaned, reaching for his third coffee of the day. He knew it was necessary, but did it really have to be so tedious?

     He could just skip the paperwork, Cas supposed. Hand it off to another officer in the precinct, have it off his hands and freeing him to patrol and chase down thugs in the city. 

     But that wasn't who he was. That wasn't how he did things. He was orderly and he was organized, and he played by the lengthy book of rules that cops had to follow.

     So, even if that meant slogging his way through a sea of paperwork, that was how it was going to be. There was simply no other way that it could be.

     He knew that the job he did helped others, and he loved it all the more because of it. He was one of the best cops in the city, and he knew it. Every other week, he took down one criminal or another, and it was because he played by the rules. Everyone- everyone- knew there was no slipping past Cas. He knew the ins and outs of every bit of legality and used it to expose and arrest those who did wrong.

     He resolved to get through at least half of the papers before he left the station for the night. No matter how much he loathed it, the paperwork was needed, it was necessary. Cas needed it completed and filed away neatly, and not there creating clutter and distraction. 

     Cas's eyes started to droop, and he fought back a yawn. "I can put in a few more hours," he murmured. It wasn't like he had plans. 

     He sighed, glancing at the clock. It was going to be another late night.

     --------------------

     Castiel woke with a start, nearly falling out of his desk chair. He stared bleary-eyed at the clock sitting on his desk, still half-asleep.

     It read, 4:23 AM. 

     Castiel jolted out of his chair, scrambling to gather his things, banging both his knee and his elbow into the sharp-edged corners of the desk in the process. He staggered towards the door, sliding his arms into his trench coat. He uttered a string of curses. His shift started in- he checked his watch- approximately thirty-four minutes.

     He'd been here since yesterday, and he was going to be working another twelve-hour shift on less than four hours of sleep. 

     It was his own fault, he knew. He'd agreed to work a twelve-hour shift yesterday, and then had worked overtime knowing that his squad had to work another shift the next morning. He'd figured he could do both, but here he was. Cursing up a storm, still half asleep and limping slightly towards the nearest 24-hour diner. He knew- from experience- that none of the coffee shops opened this early. He'd started making his own coffee instead. It was more cost-effective anyways, and Cas just needed the caffeine to stay awake. He didn't really care for what kind of coffee. 

     Now, though, he didn't have the time to make it back to his apartment and make a coffee. He didn't trust himself anyways- with this recent stroke of luck, he'd probably set the machine on fire.  

     Cas stood in front of the diner, exhausted and questioning his life's choices. Conveniently, it was just a block away- a couple minutes' walk- from the station. He could drink a couple of coffees, take a few breaths, and still make it back in time for the morning briefing. 

     But why, in heaven's name did the diner have to be called 'Baby's'? The sign buzzed neon red above him, and Cas let out a resigned sigh. He pushed open the diner's door, hearing a chime as he walked in. 

     He walked to the counter and sat down on one of the barstools. Baby's was a fifties-style diner, and Cas stared at the bright colors and checkered tile with groggy amusement. He looked up, ready to order, and his eyes met with the eyes of the man behind the counter. 

     Cas could blame it on his lack of sleep all he wanted, but the fact of the matter was, his first coherent thought was: he's gorgeous.

     He was, and Castiel couldn't deny it. The man knew it too, from the smug grin on his face. Hie eyes flicked down to Castiel's uniform, rumpled from sleeping at his desk.

     "Can I help you, Officer?" the man asked. His voice was rough and gravelly, colored with amusement. 

     Cas shook his head, reminding himself what he came in here for in the first place. "I need a couple of coffees."

     "Anything specific? You want cream, sugar?"

     "No," Cas said. "I just need to wake up, I'm not picky about my coffee."

     "Really? Well, then," the man said, green eyes glinting mischievously. "I'll make you a coffee how I make my coffee."

     He stared at the man for a moment, wary of the stranger's intent. Cas found himself wanting to trust him, strangely enough. "Sure. As long as you can make it in a few minutes, then that'll work. I just need the caffeine."

     The man smiled. "I'll get right to it."

     --------------------

     Cas had watched the man disappear into the back of the diner, and a few minutes later he emerged, holding a couple of to-go cups. He'd placed them on the counter and pushed one towards Cas. 

     "Go ahead," he'd said. "Try it."

     Cas took a hesitant sip, hoping the coffee wasn't going to taste disgusting- or worse, that the stranger was some sort of murderer and had poisoned it. 

     It was hot, but not scaldingly so. Cas guessed that the man had let it cool before handing it to him. He smiled at the thought- that a stranger, and a beautiful stranger no less, had thought to let it cool so Cas wouldn't be burned. 

     He'd even put whipped cream on top.

     The coffee itself was unlike anything Cas had ever tasted. He wondered where the man had learned to make it like this. He could taste something like maple, and a blend of spices that he couldn't quite place. He sighed. 

     "It tastes wonderful," he said.

     The man grinned. "I'm glad you like it."

     "What did you put in it?" 

     "I can't tell you," the man said, smirking. "Trade secrets, and all that. It's a special recipe."

     Cas huffed. "If I come back," he started hesitantly. "Will you make it for me again? I think that's the best coffee I've ever had."

     The man smiled, eyes crinkling. "Sure, man," he said, chuckling. 

     "You will?" Cas asked, wide eyed and hopeful.

     "'Course I will," he said. "Promise. I'm Dean, by the way."

     "Castiel."

     Cas smiled. He checked his watch, paling as he read the time. He hurriedly grabbed his coffees off of the counter, careful not to spill them, and waved goodbye to Dean as he rushed towards the door. 

     "I've got to get to work," he said. "Thank you for the coffees! I'll come by again tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Dean."

     Dean leaned back against the counter, chuckling at Cas's rushed movements. "You too, Castiel."

     Cas rushed out of the diner, determined not to miss the morning briefing. He sipped his coffee as he walked, thoughts full of Dean and his promise.  

     He was almost glad he'd fallen asleep at his desk.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'll try to get another chapter posted soon :)