Spray Cans and Coffee Cups

2: The Angel of Thursday

A/N: This will probably be a shorter chapter, sorry. I'll be working on a longer one (or a few shorter ones) to post soon! 

     Dean Winchester leaned on the counter as he watched the man- Castiel- leave. He smiled, softly laughing to himself as Castiel rushed out of the diner, almost running into one of the booths as he tried to take a sip of his coffee. Dean saw another grin split the man's face, his eyes widening as he looked down at his cup.

     It wasn't an unusual reaction. Dean made a pretty damn good coffee, and he knew it. What was unusual was how happy Castiel had looked. It had been a while, Dean knew, since he'd seen someone look that happy- hell, he didn't even see happiness when he looked in the mirror. Granted, he did work one of the latest shifts at a 24-hour diner- which wasn't exactly the happiest place on earth.

     Still. Dean wasn't sure if it was the way his eyes had widened at the first sip, or the excited way he'd smiled when Dean agreed to make him another, but there was something about Castiel, Dean knew. He was more than just another officer, and Dean was going to prove it.

     --------------------

     Dean hummed to himself, glad that his shift was almost finished. It had been a slow morning, with only a handful of customers and no one to talk to save for the cooks- who weren't talkative in the slightest. Any joke Dean tried to crack was met with an inattentive hum at best. 

     Needless to say, it had been a boring and lonely shift. Sometimes, Dean wished that he had chosen a different shift (and on the bad days, a different job entirely) but it was the only job that worked for his schedule- and he needed the money. Paint didn't come free, after all.

     Dean sighed, tossing the rag he'd been using to clean the tables back where he'd found it. It was the end of his shift, and he was ready to head back to his apartment. 

     He waved to Samantha, his coworker, wishing her a nice day as he walked out of the diner. Most of the time, she picked up the shift after his. They'd talked before, mainly about how 'Samantha' was something he sometimes called his brother too.  

     Dean pushed open the door, and the bell's jingle faded as it shut behind him. He began to walk back to his apartment- which was only a few blocks away from the diner- when he passed the police station. 

     He smiled, thinking of Castiel. Now, he was on the job as Officer Novak, and Dean chuckled as he thought of the man's clumsiness back in the diner. He knew- from experience- that Officer Novak was a very serious man. It was an image at odds with the man Dean had met in the diner.

     At first, Dean had been shocked to read 'Novak' on the man's uniform. He'd seemed too sweet- not rigid and scowling. He'd slowly warmed up to the man, though. His smile was soft- and so were his eyes- and Dean thought that maybe there could be another side to the strict Officer Novak. 

     When Dean had first seen Castiel, the first thing he'd registered was his eyes. God, they were the bluest things Dean had ever seen. Back in the diner, they had been soft- bleary and muddled from lack of sleep, which Dean found kind of cute- but when Castiel became Officer Novak, they were sharp and piercing.  

     The man's duality was something Dean couldn't help but be drawn to. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Before today, Dean had only known Officer Novak, but it was odd how gentle Castiel could be. It made Dean want to know the man.

     It was dangerous, really. 

     It was dangerous, because Dean was the city's famous graffiti artist, the 'Righteous Man.'

     It was a stupid nickname, really. He hated it. Dean knew what he was doing was anything but righteous. The public enjoyed his art- that was why he hadn't been caught- and most of the police turned a blind eye, but what he was doing was still technically illegal. 

     At first, the city had been fascinated with Dean's art. He painted the supernatural world and was known most famously for painting angels. Most people assumed he was some kind of religious fanatic- hence the nickname- but the truth was Dean was drawn to the power and mystery of the supernatural. 

     His first painting, which focused on the archangel Gabriel, had drawn a lot of attention- especially in the media. It had been all over the news the next day. The news had spread quickly, and it seemed like everyone had their own questions.

     Like Officer Novak.

     Dean had brushed past him in the street one day, faking a nonchalant smile as the man's eyes pierced through him. He couldn't help but be intimidated- Officer Novak was one of the most successful cops in the field. He'd caught everyone he set his eyes on, and for a few days Dean worried. 

     After a while, the buzz died down. Dean's art became common- a fact of life in the city- and while people still enjoyed it, no one was dying to find out who he was. Even Officer Novak's protests were ignored, and Dean continued to create. 

     It was something he loved, after all. He loved the feeling of the paint, the hiss of the spray can. He loved the adrenaline he felt when he first began a piece. But what he loved most of all was the finished product. He loved being able to create something tangible and see it when he was done- the fruit of his efforts come to life.

     He would still pass a scowling Officer Novak on the streets, but Dean no longer worried. He painted with abandon, drawing inspiration from everyday life. 

     --------------------

     A few hours later, Dean stood in front of a blank brick wall- his newest canvas.

     He shook the spray can and began to outline a man's form. He'd had an idea on the walk home, spurred by a pair of blue eyes and a soft smile.

     Castiel was the angel of Thursday, and Dean's newest muse. He smiled from underneath his mask, adjusting his hood. He'd worried slightly- knowing the dangers and possible outcomes- but went on anyways, because it was impossible for Dean to let a good idea go to waste. He'd settled for hoping Castiel wouldn't link their meeting and the Righteous Man's newest work.

     He continued to paint, relishing the hiss of the can and the look of wet paint on the wall. This was one of his favorite parts- when the idea began to take shape.   

     Dean took a few steps back, staring at the beginnings of his newest piece. It was one of his largest paintings yet, and despite it only being the outline, it nearly took up the entire wall. Dean grinned. 

     Officer Novak was going to be pissed.