Chapter Text
The sky had darkened, and the wind stirred the air with a steady whisper. People rushed into the warmth the café offered, seeking refuge from the cold drizzle that had begun to fall. Tom ignored it all—ignored them—completely absorbed in the book he was reading. The main character was infuriatingly dumb, and he honestly hoped the villain would catch up to them. Still, despite their idiocy, they were written in a way that intrigued him. He was hooked. He’d been sitting outside the café for four and a half hours now, drinking two black Americanos in that time. He only looked up when a single drop of rain landed on his cheek. Glancing at the sky—now several shades darker than before—he didn’t notice the person coming toward him until they collided with his shoulder.
"What the hell?” he scowled, rubbing his arm as he closed his book with a snap to keep it from getting wet.
"Excuse me, I wasn’t looki–“ began a dark-haired man, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. But he stopped short and squinted at Tom.
“Well, maybe if you’d stop running for a second and realize it’s just rain, not the end of the world…” Tom muttered under his breath, returning the stare.
“Dean? I can’t believe it!“ the stranger suddenly exclaimed once he realized who he was – or who he thought Tom was. “What are you doing here? This is practically the end of the world.“ He smiled at him – broadly, warmly. His eyes were a striking blue, and his lips were the pinkest Tom had ever seen. Chapped, too, he noted absently.
“You must have me confused with someone else,” he said slowly, still looking at those damned lips.
“Ha-ha, very funny, Dean,” he punched him lightly in his left arm.
Tom just blinked at him, caught off guard. For once, he was completely speechless – out loud and in his own head. It felt oddly peaceful, but also like someone had handed him a puzzle with missing pieces. “I’m not kidding,” he said cautiously. “I really don’t know who you are.”
“Uhh, Castiel? Your best friend for six years? Damn, how hard did I hit you? Or is it because of all the drinking back in high school?” he laughed, clearly still thinking Tom— or rather this Dean person—was messing with him.
“I’m sorry, buddy but I’m not who you think I am.” Tom tried again, his gaze locked on those impossibly blue eyes while speaking. He was absolutely mesmerized by this mysterious stranger.
Castiel rolled his eyes, still smiling, but as the silence stretched, the warmth faded from his expression. He frowned, something shifting in his face. Tom missed that smile already. He wasn’t sure what possessed him next—maybe it was the ghost of this Dean, maybe it was Castiel himself—but suddenly, he wanted to be that best friend from high school. He wanted to be Castiel’s best friend right now.
“Nah, just messing with you, pal,” Tom said with a grin, slapping Castiel’s shoulder. “How’ve you been?”
“Damn it, Dean. I almost believed your ridiculous act! You’re an incurable prankster, you know that?” Castiel laughed, then pulled him into a hug. And goddamn, he even smelled heavenly. Tom held on longer than necessary when he felt Castiel begin to pull away.
“I missed you,” he whispered. That’s normal for best friends, right? He had no idea. He’d never had one. Certainly not for six years. And definitely not one this beautiful.
“Me too,” Castiel replied as he stepped back. “Shit, I have to go. I’m so late,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I work here, and I fell asleep – because you know how I love to sleep when it rains—and I overslept my alarm. It’s actually the third time this week, so that’s why I was running and –”
“Castiel,” Tom interrupted.
Cas stopped rambling and looked at him. “You should go,” Tom said with a small laugh, and Castiel chuckled too.
“Yeah, you’re right.” But he didn’t move. He stood there awkwardly, looking down at his shoes. “Do you… maybe—if you’re not in a rush—want to come inside? I make the best hot cocoa. Like, famous for it level. Probably the only reason I haven’t been fired yet.”
Tom smiled. “Lead the way.”
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When they stepped inside, both soaked from the heavy rain, Tom didn’t care. He sat at the nearest table to the register so he could keep Cas in view the entire time. He drank the hot cocoa Cas made for him—even though he never drank that kind of stuff. It was way too sweet. Things you do for your not-best friends.
When Cas apologized that he couldn’t just sit and catch up, Tom waved it off. “It’s your shift,” he said casually. In reality, it gave him exactly what he needed: some much-needed time to do some digging and find out who this beautiful angel who made the best hot cocoa in town was.
He found him on social media easily. He posted mostly pictures of cats, books, and nature. A few photos with people who turned out to be siblings: red-haired Anna, the youngest; Gabriel, who looked slightly older than Cas (and who unlike him posted literally everything); and the oldest brother—Lucifer. Tom clicked through their accounts until he found a graduation photo Anna had posted, featuring her and Castiel in cap and gown. She’d tagged the school location.
Bingo.
Tom did the math on when they would’ve graduated and started digging. After about an hour and a half—and two more hot cocoas, because apparently Tom could like sweet things—he finally got somewhere.
There were two Deans in that class: Dean Wellington and Dean Winchester. Now, if that didn’t ease his search, looking up Dean Winchester certainly did.
The guy was identical to Tom. He stared at the screen in disbelief for a full minute before Cas came over and asked if he was okay. Tom quickly shut the site and flashed a grin. No wonder Castiel had confused him. Hell, he would’ve confused himself.
It was eerie. Dean was in photos playing football, hanging out at lockers with friends, posing for yearbook shots. Same face. Well, almost. Dean’s hair was a lighter brown—maybe even dirty blonde—while Tom’s was darker. And hair wasn’t the only thing darker in Tom’s life, he thought bitterly.
Perfect grades, perfect athletic records, perfect brother to his younger brother named Samuel, perfect son, and apparently, he was the town’s golden boy. Dean Winchester had it all. After high school, he’d become a firefighter. There was even an interview where he was praised for heroically saving lives—including the mayor’s. He had a girlfriend, too – dark-haired, cute, but too ordinary for Tom’s taste. The guy was too perfect. Unrealistically perfect. There had to be something.
Tom spent the rest of Castiel’s shift reading everything there was to know about Dean Winchester. He even found a way to hack into his social media account. He didn’t get to read the messages with Cas, though, because just then Cas came back over, grinning, saying he was finally off and they could go hang out. Tom barely managed to close the tab in time. He did read some of Dean’s messages with his brother, ‘Sammy’, just to play it safe – and to sound more like him.
He wasn’t going to lose Cas. He’d make this friendship work. And if that meant becoming Dean Winchester? Then so be it.