Un-beta'd. But, my friend midorihaven was kind enough to read it over for me. :) Written in Sam's POV.

A/N: fluff, pre-slash, humour, AU (not hunters/all human).

Warnings: possible ooc-ness. season 1 spoilers?

Sam notices that Dean is sleeping better than usual. He doesn't wake up during the night to have a glass of vodka – which he tries to pass off as water – like he would any other time. No, in the past few months, Dean gets through seven hours without even so much as twitching in his sleep.

When he wakes up, he doesn't fill his flask with Jack Daniel's - like he has since even before John passed away. He rummages around their house for ingredients, and whips up a half-healthy breakfast – according to Dean's standards that is – for them to enjoy together.

There are other happenings as well. Like the fact that Dean hums under his breath when they're out grocery shopping together. Or the way Dean doesn't snap at Sam anymore when he mentions past mistakes, bad memories or their father. And sometimes, if Sam is very careful and pretends not to be paying attention, he'll see Dean checking himself longer in the mirror than he ever has in the past - just to make sure everything he's wearing looks just right.

Something has definitely changed, and Sam thinks it has to do with the new coffee shop Dean's been using as a source for Wi-Fi.

XXX

Sam tells Dean to get him a chai latte – which Dean of course makes a face at – and goes to sit near the window, further back in the shop.

Sure, it's a comfortable place, with nice chairs and a peaceful atmosphere, but Dean's never been one to notice that kind of thing. He could concentrate even if Marilyn Manson was blaring from the speakers. So it's something else that's been drawing Dean here; making him rest better during the night.

Dean walks up to the counter, and there's a blond girl getting ready to serve him, until she gets nudged out of the way by her male co-worker.

Sam's just a bit too far to make out the words, but he can read the man's lips – and Dean's body language – clear enough.

"What can I get you, Dean?"

Dean looks up at the menu for a second then lets his eyes come back down to the man's. "You know me, Cas, the usual. My brother's with me today though, and he wants a chai latte. I'm sorry that he has such poor taste in drinks."

The man laughs, and rings up the order. The corner of his eyes crinkles with the intensity of his smile, and even from here – far from the whole scene, too far to see what Dean's expression is – Sam can tell Dean is smiling.

Dean never smiles all that much at anyone but Sam, and it makes Sam feel like he's bearing witness to something too intimate to be seen by his eyes. He feels like he's intruding on a special moment that he should have asked permission to be a part of.

And, just as Sam predicted, there's a smile plastered across Dean's face when he brings the two mugs back with him. It looks like a smile that will never ever fall away, something genuine and meaningful. And all for a dark haired man who smiled back at Dean just as kindly, serving him from behind the counter.

Sam raises a brow when he notices the crumpled bag hanging out of Dean's pocket. Dean takes it out, carefully ripping the paper apart, and two decorated muffins come into view.

"Cas…" Dean clears his throat. "The guy that works here, he always gives me free stuff."

Sam huffs out a laugh, taking a sip of his chai. "That's nice of him."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, biting into one of the muffins. "And he bakes these himself. Fresh daily. You should try some, Sammy. They're awesome."

Dean probably doesn't mean to sound so honest, so sincere, about something as small as baked goods, but Sam hears it in his voice all the same. The fondness, the attachment, the praise - Dean doesn't speak like that about just anyone. And especially not people who are paid to serve customers.

It means that Dean is harbouring some kind of affection for Cas; that he's making Dean feel better somehow.

Sam just wonders why he hasn't been told anything about the handsome stranger yet, though. It's not like Sam will judge if it turns out Dean has a crush on the guy. Anyone who can make Dean cut down on his alcohol consumption, stop screaming himself awake because of nightmares, make Dean smile until his face hurts, is someone who has all of Sam's gratitude and respect. Beyond anything else, Sam just wants to tell him thank you for making Dean seem whole again.

"So his name's Cas? He seems nice." Sam tries for casual, but he thinks Dean's on to him from the way he stops devouring his muffin.

"Yeah, Cas. I know it's kind of a weird name, but his family was a bunch of religious freaks. It's not like our family was much better." Dean sounds bitter again, which is the last thing Sam wanted to do.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I was just curious," Sam explains, sipping his chai. It's the best one he's ever tried. Cas must have a talent.

"It's short for Castiel," Dean adds, mouth full of muffin. Some of the crumbs fall on the table, and Sam pretends he doesn't see Dean greedily picking them up. "I think Cas sounds better, though."

"Yeah."

Sam takes a breath, looks over at Castiel leaning against the counter – looking kind of bored, to be honest – and looks back at Dean. He could be wrong. They could just be good friends, or in the process of becoming good friends. But Dean…Dean doesn't have friends. He doesn't make friends. And if Castiel is someone important to Dean, then he shouldn't wait; he needs to tell him how he feels.

"Dean." Sam waits until Dean looks up from licking his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Do you like Cas?"

"What? What are you talking about, Sammy? That fruity drink of yours is doing weird things to your head." Dean scoffs, swallowing down a lot of coffee.

"I'm serious, Dean. You – you've been acting different lately. You seem happier. And if it's because of him, I think he should know."

Dean is scowling at him, but Sam expected that. Anything to do with feelings and caring are instantly off-putting for Dean. Sam just waits, silently, wearing his most hopeful look, hoping it works on Dean like it always does.

Dean groans. "Okay, first of all, bitch - shut up. Second of all, the reason I brought you here was to ask for advice, okay? So stop making a face like I'm about to drown you in a bathtub."

Sam smiles with relief, looking over at Castiel. He still looks bored, but every so often he steals glances over at Dean. "Jerk. You could have said that sooner."

"Yeah, well, I'm saying it now. How do I tell him? I dunno what to say, man. You're the one who's good with relationships."

Sam catches Castiel staring at Dean for the fifth time in ten minutes. "Just ask him to go to a movie or something. It's not hard, Dean, unless you make it that way. I have a feeling he'd say yes to anything you invite him to do."

"Anything?" Dean asks in a playful tone, starting in on his second muffin.

"You know what I mean." Sam laughs. "Maybe you should start with how much you like his muffins."

"I do like his muffins…" Dean waggles his brow, smirking.

Sam ignores the innuendo, and nods towards the counter. "He's been watching you the whole time, you know."

"That doesn't mean anything. I usually sit closer so we can talk, that's all. He's probably waiting for me to order something else so he can give me some free cookies next."

"He gives you free cookies, too?" Sam asks, brows furrowing.

"Well…yeah." Dean rubs at his nape. "I thought that these indie shops did stuff like that to compete with places like Starbucks."

Sam shakes his head, grinning. "He likes you. Go talk to him. Otherwise, he'll find another grouchy dude with bowlegs to flirt with."

Dean grumbles, kicking Sam's shin underneath the table. "If you're wrong, you're going to buy me a year's supply of pie."

Castiel's face is already lighting up before Dean gets to him. Once again their conversation is muffled, but Sam does make out Castiel's reply of I'd love to! And then Dean is waddling back to their table, with another paper bag – full of cookies, no less – and a smile from here to China.

"He said he'd pick me up tomorrow at eight. Apparently, his family owns a fancy restaurant downtown, and he's been dying to bring me there."

"Told you I was right," Sam replies, drinking the last of his foamy latte.

Sam reaches for one of the cookies, but before he can, Dean slaps his hand away.

"He made those specifically for me. And I don't think you with your grass and buckwheat diet can appreciate Cas's amazing skills."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say someone is sounding a bit possessive."

"Well maybe you would be, too, if your initials were on these cookies."

When Sam looks over at the counter, Castiel doesn't look bored anymore; he looks dreamy-eyed.

Dean doesn't stop munching on the cookies to add, "Also, he owns this place. Just saying."

Sam thinks Dean chose the perfect match this time. He deserves to be spoiled after all the years he spent raising Sam when their parents passed away.