once & done: destiel one shots

Dean doesn't wash cats (mobile dog groomer AU)

Prompt: Dean is a mobile dog groomer, Cas calls him to wash his cat, dean doesn't know he's going to wash a cat, he's so not prepare for the fluffball or their smexy oddball owner.

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Dean doesn't wash cats. Dean doesn't like cats, but he can tell by the backwards tie and bags under the guy's eyes that he needs a break. He already offered to pay extra and it's not like Dean can afford to say no to the cash. Plus, the guy's not hard to look at - dark hair, tan disappearing into his collared shirt. Dean's done worse for less.

And there's the fact that the cat's sporting a pretty un-cat-like shade of blue. He can't just leave it like that.

"Yeah, sure," he mutters and ignores the cat's pained howl as the guy hands it over. He smiles at Dean. It makes the skin crinkle around his eyes and something in Dean's chest feel tight. He smiles back without really thinking about it and slides the van door closed. The cat hisses.

+

"Thank you again," Castiel says as he tears the check carefully along its perforated edge. "I don't know how she got into paint. Was it hard to get off?"

"Nah. Most of it came off with a little dish soap. She probably brushed up against something. You should see the crap my brother's dog gets into."

Dean folds the check and slips it into his pocket. His pants and shirt are flecked with fur; he's careful not to lean against the counter. The house is nice but impersonal, like Castiel isn't there much. The kitchen is all white - no magnets on the fridge or even a colorful dish towel. The towel is beige like the coat draped over a counter-height stool. The cat's nowhere in sight; she scampered off as soon as Dean carried her inside. She's beige too.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" Castiel asks.

"Uh, sure," Dean says, wiping his hands on his jeans. This was his last appointment for the day and the bank's already closed, so why not?

"How do you take it?"

"Black." Dean drums his hands on the counter and fishes for conversation. "So. You new in town?"

"Relatively." Castiel's back is to Dean while he pushes buttons on a single-brew coffee machine. "I'm a visiting professor at KU. I've been here since January."

"What subject?"

"Religious Studies."

Dean has no idea what that means, so he shifts gears. "Are you renting?" he asks, pointing around the room.

Castiel shrugs and turns around. "For now. If I end up staying, it'll be cheaper to buy a place, but there's no guarantee I'll get a full-time position."

"Where are you from?"

"Outside Chicago."

"Never been."

"I miss it," Castiel admits. "It's friendly. But it's nice here, although a little lonely."

He holds Dean's gaze a beat too long to be accidental. Dean clears his throat.

The machine gurgles and streams coffee into a mug with a cartoon bumble bee on the side. Castiel's giving him another crinkle-eyed smile. Religious studies and bees and a cat that already hates him. Okay.

"I grew up here," Dean says. "Be happy to show you around."

Castiel walks the mug to Dean and sets it down in front of him.

"Can I buy you dinner?" he asks. "To say thank you."

His eyes are a mesmerizing blue, the only thing worth looking at in the room. The corner of Dean's mouth tugs into a grin.

"Yeah," he says and wraps his hands around the bee mug. "Um. I gotta run home and shower, then I can swing by and pick you up?"

"Alright."

"I have a car," he hurries to add. "I mean, I'm not picking you up in the van."

"I'm not sure the cat would forgive me if you did."

"She was pretty pissed." Dean rolls up his sleeve and shows off a few new scratch marks. "Got me good."

"Sorry," Castiel says, wincing.

"Comes with the territory." Dean shrugs and takes a sip of the coffee. It's too hot, a little watery, but he likes the way Castiel watches him when he drinks it, how he smiles at Dean over a medium-rare ribeye a couple hours later.

"I suppose I owe you dessert for the injuries," Castiel offers.

Dean's full but not stuffed; he could go for dessert, and he's not ready for this night to be over.

"They do an olive oil cake that's pretty decent," he says, recalling the time Sammy dragged him here.

"I have ice cream in the freezer." Castiel looks at him intensely over his glass, swirling the remains of a $15 cocktail.

The cat is watching them from the staircase when Castiel unlocks the front door. She runs off as soon as Dean comes inside. They eat the ice cream for breakfast.