Chapter Text
The first text is jarring, to say the least.
From Unknown: Hey, babe. Had a great time last night. Let me know if you’re free tonight, too. Love to use my tongue on you.
Castiel chokes on his scone.
From Castiel: Who is this?
From Unknown: Ouch. Jokes hurt sometimes. It’s Tyler.
Castiel isn’t sure if he should be thankful or terrified by the fact that he’s never engaged with a man named Tyler in his life.
From Castiel: Sorry. I think you have the wrong number.
From Unknown: This isn’t Dean?
From Castiel: No, sorry.
From Unknown: Well
From Unknown: This is awkward
Castiel is ready to put his phone down (possibly forever) when another text rings through.
From Unknown: What are you doing tonight?
Castiel chokes on his scone again.
“You know, usually you’re supposed to swallow those.”
Gabriel is Castiel’s least tolerable coworker. He never shuts up. He purposely misspells names on cups. His frappuccinos always get sent back. He has an attitude that always gets him in trouble with management.
He’s Castiel’s best friend.
It wasn’t Castiel’s choice, to be fair. He got a job at Starbucks, met Gabriel on his first day, and the dumbass just kinda… claimed him.
“I think someone just offered to use their tongue on me,” Castiel leans back in the flimsy plastic of the breakroom chair. “Maybe more.”
Gabe doesn’t bat an eye. “You said yes, right?”
“No!” Castiel positively guffaws, clutching his chest the way an old southern white lady would clutch a string of pearls. “It was a wrong number! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“A lot,” Gabe shrugs.
In March, the text is from a girl.
From Unknown: Hey, handsome. It’s Natalie. We still on for coffee today?
From Castiel: Natalie who?
From Unknown: Wow, really?
From Unknown: You’re joking, right?
From Castiel: Um
From Castiel: No?
From Unknown: From the gym.
From Unknown: Really, Dean?
Oh.
From Castiel: You have the wrong number. Sorry.
From Unknown: Fuck you, Dean.
Castiel can’t figure out why he feels so bad about upsetting this girl, but damage control feels instinctive.
From Castiel: I wasn’t at the gym this morning. My name’s not Dean, honestly. Sorry, he gave you the wrong number.
Natalie doesn’t respond, and Castiel feels so bad that it quite literally ruins his entire day.
“Do you remember that one time I got that weird text?” Castiel says to Gabe when their shift slows down. He’s in the middle of making a fifteen year old a cold brew. “Y’know, from that guy?”
“I’m gonna need a little more context than that, Cassie.”
And, yeah. Fair.
“The wrong number,” Castiel supplies. “The guy who wanted to-”
“With the tongue! Yes!” Gabe grins. He leans against the cash register. “You gonna give him a chance?”
“No,” Castiel frowns. “It happened again.”
Gabe’s grin widens. “What, another man offering you his tongue?”
Castiel hands the mildly traumatized fifteen year old her cold brew so she stops eavesdropping.
He turns to his friend. “Gabe-”
“I mean, I can understand where they’re coming from, but-”
“No! Oh, my god,” Castiel hits him. “It was a girl this time-”
“Cassie, you dirty, dirty dog.”
“I…” Castiel drops his arms to his sides. “I give up.”
“No!” Gabe laughs, dropping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Come on. A girl… what?”
“The guy gave a girl his number this time.”
Gabe stares at him. “Some people are bisexual, Castiel.”
Castiel rolls his eyes. “I’m aware of that, thank you.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“She got so upset,” Castiel sighs. “Y’know, when I told her I wasn’t the guy.”
“What? You feel bad?”
Castiel shrugs, eyes falling to his green apron.
“Aw, Cassie,” Gabe is grinning again. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault you’re not… What’s his name?”
“Dean.”
“Dean,” Gabe finishes. “What were you supposed to do, pretend?”
And it wasn’t meant to be a suggestion, but Castiel takes it as one anyway.
The third text comes in April.
From Unknown: Hey, green eyes. How’s my pretty boy doing?
Castiel’s eyes are blue.
From Castiel: I’m good :) How are you doing?
From Unknown: Better after last night. What are you doing on Thursday?
From Castiel: I’m busy, sorry.
From Unknown: Friday?
From Castiel: I’m just super busy.
From Unknown: damn, okay. I’ll take the hint. Sorry.
And Castiel feels zero percent better.
Castiel vaguely thinks to himself, though, that if these people are all falling for a handsome, pretty boy with green eyes… well… he certainly doesn’t blame them.
The texts become less sexual after that, but they start to happen twice as much. Sometimes it’s a simple “ Hey, this is Dean, right?” Sometimes it’s more specific, like “ Dean, you left your pasta in my apartment .” They get very annoying, very quickly. Pretending to be Dean is very annoying.
The only string of texts that Castiel doesn’t mind starts in June. It’s an automated, “ Hello, DEAN. Thank you for signing up for the BATH AND BODY WORKS rewards program! Try our new summer fragrances like WAIKIKI BEACH COCONUT and SUNSHINE MIMOSA. Reply STOP to cease messages. Message and Data rates may apply. ”
Castiel doesn’t reply STOP .
Once, in August, Castiel’s phone actually rings.
He answers it on the couch in his living room. His black and white cat, Hamburger, looks quizzically up at him from his lap. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dean, it’s Jody from the gym. I think you left your water bottle here. Do you want me to just give it to Al?”
“Oh, uh,” Castiel sits taller. Hamburger has to adjust. “Sure?”
“Great, see you Monday, buddy.”
“Okay?” Castiel says, but the line is already disconnecting.
Castiel spends the rest of the night worrying about if Dean got his goddamn water bottle.
By September, Castiel’s more than used to it. The messages are coming weekly now from a random array of people—automated and real.
“What’s it this time?” Gabe asks in the break room. “Bath and Body Works or someone trying to be frisky?”
Castiel glares, staring at where Gabe sits across from him. “They’re not frisky anymore, Gabe.”
Gabe rests his arms on the table, disappointed. “So, what are the Bath and Body Works deals lookin’ like for fall, then?”
“Well, lots of pumpkin and apple, but they sent that last week.” Castiel types on his phone, sighing. “ This was someone looking for notes from a work meeting.”
Gabe tries to peer across the table at Castiel’s phone. “What’re you saying?”
Castiel shows Gabe the screen.
From Unknown: Hey Dean-o can you send me the notes from the meeting today?
From Castiel: I don’t have them with me. Can you ask next time I see you?
“Why don’t you just say it’s the wrong number?”
Castiel sighs again. He’s so tired. “Y’know, I was doing that in the beginning, but it’s easier to just play pretend.”
It upsets less people.
“You understand that just makes it easier for this Dean guy, right? Like, not only are you dealing with the people he’s annoyed with, but you’re making it so they don’t even know he’s giving a fake number. All these people think they’re friends with the guy, or whatever.”
“It’s just easier.”
Castiel’s phone dings again.
From Unknown: Sure thing, you going to the potluck this weekend?
And sure, why not.
From Castiel: I’ll try to swing by.
They sit quietly for a minute before Gabe’s voice goes a little gentler, less shit-eating. “Naomi wants you on register after our break.”
Castiel’s entire stomach spasms. “Wh-What? Why?”
“I think she noticed our system.”
“What’s wrong with the system? It’s a good system.”
And it is. Gabriel’s a people person who’s shit at making drinks. Castiel’s a socially anxious person who makes a killer cup of joe. Their roles make perfect sense when they’re on shift together.
“Sorry,” Gabe sighs like he actually is. “It’s slow today, it won’t be that bad.”
Gabriel, to his credit, has never been more wrong in his entire life.
The first woman that comes through squints at Castiel when he stutters. Castiel contemplates giving his two-weeks notice.
He avoids eye contact with the next two people, but when Naomi peers out from behind the back room, he at least has to pretend he’s smiling.
When she disappears back into her cave, Castiel actually deflates against the register.
“Well,” a deep voice says on the other side of the counter. “You look like you need some coffee.”
Castiel forces his eyes up and immediately knows his day is about to get worse.
He could generalize the elderly people and teenagers he dealt with earlier. This man, though. This man. Wow.
Castiel has to look up to meet his bright eyes. He’s wearing a leather jacket—because of course he is— and his light stubble frames his tan jawline like he’s made of chiseled marble. His brown hair is short and scruffy and tousled and his smirk is so aggressively amused. He’s really just a gorgeous human specimen. Castiel has never felt this much like a disaster in his life.
“I… Um…” he supplies thoughtfully. “No.”
“Sure, buddy,” the handsome man says, a note of playful sarcasm there. He looks at the menu. “Can I get a grande honey oatmilk latte and a tall americano?”
“Sure,” Castiel grabs the cups. “Can I get a name for the order?”
“Uh, Dean?” he says.
Castiel almost laughs.
“What?” Dean frowns.
“Oh, no, sorry,” Castiel keeps his eyes on the cup as he writes. “It’s nothing.”
Dean looks confused, but taps his hand on the counter as he waits.
Castiel pushes the marked cups in Gabe’s direction, and he starts ringing up the order on the register. “Are you a rewards member?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I get the phone number?”
“Sure, uh, 264,”
“Okay.”
“555.”
“Okay.”
“3543.”
Castiel freezes.
Castiel completely freezes.
His gaze shoots up to stare at Dean and, at first, Castiel’s eyes are impossibly wide. He’s so astounded he can’t even blink.
It pieces together so fast, Castiel’s head spins. This man is certainly pretty and handsome. He has green eyes. He looks like he could work a desk job—something that requires meetings and potlucks and other important activities. He looks like he has enough people wanting to be his friend that he has to give out a fake number. He looks cool enough to actually have friends in the first place, people so intimately close to him that he can leave leftover pasta in their homes.
The only thing that doesn’t seem believable is the fact that this guy not only shops at Bath and Fucking Body Works, he shops there enough to be a rewards member.
But the pent up frustration registers then, and his eyes squint. He feels them darken. “ You .”