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#just watch dean fawn over him forever unable to have him
hitmeupaep · 5 months
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destiel angst but imagine a world where when cas tells dean there real dean replies screaming and sobbing “really cas? an angel of the lord sent down here to put gods chess pieces into place? how do i know your not just another false hope your dad made to destroy me?”
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built-from-nothing · 6 years
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Dark Drops of Heaven
Prompt: Coffee Shop AU for Freja’s 800 Follower Trope Challenge
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Words: 2,106
Warnings: None that I can think of, just some fluff. 
A/N: Congrats on 800, @frejahertziswritingthistime. You deserve every single one and so much more! I’ve been obsessed with coffee lately, so this hit the spot. Thank you for letting me be a part of this challenge. Enjoy, lovelies!
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You insert the key into the lock and turn, the pins clicking into place before the door swings open, bells above chiming away to alert your presence to the empty shop. Grumbling at the loud sound, you switch on the lights and toss the keys on the counter, the permanent smell of roasted beans and cream welcoming you inside. 
Working at the local coffee shop has been nothing short of fantastic. When your best friend Charlie called you three years ago to help her run her dying, small coffee house, you never thought you’d end up here: co-managing a flourishing coffee shop that never seemed to have a dull moment. 
You drop your bags in the back office and brew the first pot of coffee for the morning, eager to get the liquid energy into your system. No matter how many times you’ve gotten up at five am to open the shop, you still have yet to master the morning routine. Guess you’re stuck feeling like an early morning zombie every day. 
Waiting for the coffee to percolate, you finish opening the store when the high pitched clang of the doorbells sounds again. God, you hated those damn things, always ringing away at such an ungodly pitch this early in the morning. Donna, one of the local sheriffs, walks in and sets a few boxes on the counter. 
“Hiya, sweetie. Changed it up a little today and brought’cha pies instead,” Donna chirps, her voice similar to the bells on the door. The aroma alone curling from the box of warm, flaky crusts and sweet berries mixed with the freshly brewed coffee was enough to make your mouth water.
“Thanks, Donna,” you say opening the lid to take a peek at the delicacy waiting inside. It looks just as beautiful as it smells, the design etched into the top crust perfectly carved and browned to give it a nice, soft crunch.
“Think I might have to buy this for myself, it looks so damn good,” you laugh licking your lips, and turn to get Donna a cup of coffee. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this full time? We never have enough of your desserts to last us past lunch time.”
“Noo, I could never leave the station. Too much for Jody to do all by her self.” You pour the black liquid into a paper cup and doctor it up before handing Donna her usual. “Think Dean’ll be in again today?” she questions, raising her eyebrows as she takes a sip. 
The sound of Dean’s name alone was enough to make your heart flutter. Dean works at the mechanic shop in town, his reputation with women proceeding him. Nearly every young and able-bodied woman in town had their round with the handsome devil, very few ever able to return for seconds.
“He’s a regular of course he’ll be in,” you scoff playfully and look away, desperate to get off this subject. Ever since Dean started coming in you’ve harbored a crush for the guy, his gorgeous eyes and perfectly coiffed hair pushing all your buttons. A few flirtatious lines would pass between you as you prepared his coffee, but never anything more. Girls would warn you, maybe more out of jealousy than good nature, that he was no good, the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, but something about him seemed different to you. Never had he treated you like an object, only making a serious move to get in your pants. He was always warm and sweet, talking about whatever thoughts struck him that morning and complementing your barista skills. He was a pure gentleman, through and through.
The door opens with a clamor, (you really need to talk to Charlie about taking those damn bells down), as Donna shoots you a pointed look.
“He just likes our coffee, okay,” you brush her off, not wanting to talk about your love life this early in the morning.
“That’s not all he likes,” Charlie bellows as she enters the shop and throws her bags across the counter nearly knocking Donna’s pie over the edge.
“Charlie!” you shout a slight tinge of pink on your cheeks and swipe the baked goods from the counter. “You almost knocked Donna’s-”
“It’s obvious the guy likes you, Y/n, the way you two flirt and fawn over each other. Just make a move already,” Charlie says before walking off through the swinging door to the back room. You slap your hand over your face and peek at Donna through your fingers, groaning.
She simply shrugs and nods in agreement with Charlie before adding, “See ya bright and early tomorrow, kiddo.”
You bid Donna goodbye and place her goodies in the glass display case beside the register, it taking every ounce of willpower you have not to devour the berry pie yourself. You place it on the glass cake stand on the top of the counter and sneak a small piece of the crust, the flaky pastry melting in your mouth. You force yourself away from the pie, popping one last bite into your mouth and do some last minute prep.
Soon enough the morning rush begins, lines of people filing into the coffee shop to get their daily dose of caffeine before work. You and Charlie buzz around, pulling shots and pouring cream, the minutes flying by as you serve customer after customer.  
Before you know it, the rush dies down leaving a few stragglers here and there before the next onslaught of nine o’clock commuters arrive. The lull finally allowing a moment to breathe, you take inventory of your supplies. “I’m on my last cup, Charlie. Can you go get some more from the back?” 
She nods and flounces off to the storage cupboard in the backroom. You grab a bag of coffee beans from an overhead cabinet and reload the machine when the doorbell rings. A man in a leather jacket and sunglasses slumps over the counter, his elbow the only thing propping his head up. He rubs his forehead and glares back at the door grumbling about the ear-splitting noise. So you weren’t the only one who hated the damn things. You stifle a snort and return to filling the coffee maker. “What can I get you?” you holler over your shoulder.
“Large coffee, black,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Rough night?” you giggle, pouring the remnants of the pot into a paper cup, and turn to face him. You stop dead in your tracks at the man that slouches before you, your heart rate accelerating. Why does the mere sight of Dean always have this effect on you? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t control how your body responded to him.
“You could say that,” he chortles removing his sunglasses, and looks up from the counter to catch your eyes. You watch, mesmerized as his tongue slowly peeks out to roll across his bottom lip, his teeth snagging on the plump skin as a grin spread across his lips. The thin layer of sweat coating your palms coupled with your short, shallow breaths makes holding the cup of steaming hot liquid a struggle.
Charlie clears her throat beside you, pulling you from your trance, and places the stack of cups in the holder near the register. “Uhh, here,” you stammer and hand the cup over to Dean. “Don’t want to hold you up.”
“You could hold me here forever, Sweetheart,” he purrs, voice low and smooth like a fine whiskey. “I don’t mind.”
You chew your lip and turn away to hide the warm flush filling your cheeks only for Charlie to make an awkward gesture signaling for you to make a move. You stare at her, flashes of shock, anger, and embarrassment passing through you. You turn back to Dean, your mouth open as you scramble for what to say.
“Can I have a slice of that pie to go?” he interjects, saving you from your speechlessness, and flashes you a heartfelt smile. “It looks too delicious to pass up.” All the nervousness and embarrassment raging inside you slowly fades away, the sincerity of his smile replacing it with comfort and ease.
“Absolutely.” You cut a slice from the pie and box the dessert. “I had a hard time putting it in the case this morning,” you chuckle, “I just wanted to eat the entire thing right then and there.”
His bright eyes focus on your lips before slowly lowering to rake your body. “I know the feeling,” he murmurs.
A wave of heat courses through you, down to the tips of your toes, as he devours you with his eyes. You instinctively cross your legs, the muscles tightening around your thighs, and bite your lip.
“Uhh, thanks,” he says, his husky voice low and gravelly as he pulls cash from his pocket and hastily leaves the shop. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and watch him leave, your mind racing and unable to form a coherent thought. Did he just?
“What just happened?” Charlie asks, her eyes darting from you to where Dean just stood.
“I don’t know,” you whisper, unable to wipe the smirk from your face. A feeling bubbles low in your stomach, steadily reaching high into your chest filling you with excitement and giddiness. Charlie rolls her eyes and snorts.
“You don’t know,” she teases. “Let me just wipe up the puddle of drool he’s left behind on our counter after he totally just eye fucked you into oblivion.”
“He did not,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the absurd thought. “He just has a thing for Donna’s pie.” Charlie raises her eyebrows at you and glares until you break down and giggle. “Okay, fine. He checked me out. Happy?”
The phone rings, breaking your conversation before she can make some smartass remark. You give her a victory smile and pick up the phone. “Lawrence Coffee, what can I get you?”
“Hey.” Your heart does a flip at the sound of the familiar gravelly voice on the other end of the line.
“Hi, Dean,” you flirt, unable to hide your excitement. Charlie comes rushing over at the sound of his name and puts her ear up against the phone, eager to hear why he called.
“I think someone stole a section of my pie. You wouldn’t have happened to see who did it by chance? It’s just too good of a pie to not eat every last bite,” he chuckles, and the determined fire behind Charlie’s eyes ignites.
“Ask him out!” she whispers furiously. Her mouth still close to the receiver, you quickly retract the phone and place the speaker against your chest. You pray Dean didn’t hear her and shoo Charlie off to go bus tables, or literally anything else that didn’t involve eavesdropping on your conversation.
You try to collect your thoughts and glance at the cake stand. Nothing seems out of place, the only person to have touched it that day being you when you cut Dean’s piece. Well, that and when you stole a small piece this morning. You examine the pie, unable to find your mitt marks from earlier and mentally slap your forehead.
“Yeah, about that,” you smile into the phone. “I have the culprit right here, and she wants to know how she can ever make it up to you. Stealing from such a delicious pie and all.”
“Dinner tonight at my place, eight o’clock.”
You can’t contain the shit eating grin overtaking your face. Dean Winchester, the sexiest man in all of Lawrence, Kansas just asked you to dinner. At his place. You pause and take a few breaths trying to gain control of your rapidly pounding heart.
“She’s deliberating, and - yup, she can make it. Insists there be pie present, though.” A full bodied laugh rumbles through the phone causing the breath to catch in your throat.
“You bet your ass there’ll be pie, Sweetheart,” he laughs and pauses, a dark, awkward tension building over the line. “Lots of sweet, delicious, moist pie,” he purrs, his lips popping the p to send a shiver down your spine. You hum in pleasure and try to tame the heat spreading through your body.
“Who eats pie at seven forty-five in the morning anyway, Dean-o?”      
You can practically hear the wide smirk spread across his lips before he chuckles. “I never turn down a good pie - ever. But I just couldn’t wait to get my hands on this one.”
“Oh, really? And why is that?” you tease while lazily wiping down the counter.
“Was afraid that maybe if I didn’t eat it soon she’d get away, and I couldn’t have that.”
You stop and stare at the sparkling counter, the corners of your mouth pulling and quivering in exhilaration. “No, we can’t have that.”
Read Part 2 Here
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