Destiel One-Shots

Part-Time Psychiatrist*

   Castiel frowns slightly as he wipes down the bar. The last frat boy who was seated here for a brief moment had spilled his beer all over the counter, slipping away without so much as an apology. The rag he's using quickly becomes soaked, so he tosses it aside into the laundry basket under the sink and grabs a fresh one. As he's wiping up the last of the sticky mess, he glances to the end of the bar. The man is still there, unmoving, head hung low over his crossed arms. Castiel has been pouring shots of whiskey for the man all night without so much as a word. Honestly, he's surprised the man is still upright at this point.

He doesn't get the chance to go over and talk to him yet, however, as he is currently up to his elbows serving up drinks to almost every fraternity and sorority house surrounding the medium sized bar. His co-worker, and incidentally his older brother, Gabriel is running late. As usual. He feels a small thrill of relief as Gabriel walks in and the man is still there. Dean. Dean Winchester to be exact, if his I.D. is real.

Swiping a shot glass from under the bar, he reaches behind him to grab a bottle of Fireball, his guilty pleasure when it comes to alcohol. He pours himself a shot before grabbing the now empty shot glass off the bar and refilling it as well. As he sets it down, the man finally lifts his head. Castiel feels a shock run through him as he takes in the mossy green eyes.

"Fireball? Really?" The man asks, his voice slurring slightly with alcohol, but still so smooth that Castiel wants to bathe in it for the rest of his life. He feels himself shrug, a lopsided smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"What can I say? I always loved cinnamon." He replies, shooting the green eyed god across from him a flirty wink. The other man just blinks uncomprehendingly. Okay, so maybe he's a little more drunk that he's really letting on, Castiel decides. Still, he grips the glass loosely between two fingers and tosses it back, letting out a soft 'ahh' as he places it back down. Castiel copies the action. Reaching out, he grabs the glass and turns to drop both of them into the sink beside him. He definitely be serving this man any more alcohol tonight.

"So, I've been a bartender for a while." He starts conversationally. One things he's learned is that at times his job also includes being a part-time therapist. "I've seen that look on other people." He gestures to the other man's face. "What's troubling you?" He keeps his face impassive as the man across from him lifts his head to make eye contact.

"I don't even know you." Is all he says in reply. Castiel sucks on his teeth for a second before extending a hand.

"Castiel Novak. Pleased to make your acquaintance." The action pulls a smirk out of the other man as he lifts a hand to shake Castiel's.

"Dean Winchester." He replies thickly. Castiel feels himself smile.

"So, now that you know who I am, why are you drowning yourself in hard liquor?" He isn't quite sure why, but he feels a desperate need to help this man. Dean huffs a dispirited laugh out through his nose, which ends in a snort that is somehow just as adorable as it is unattractive.

"I'm a fuck up." He slurs, shrugging one shoulder up to his ear. "Can't keep a girl, can't keep a job, my own father kicked me out of the house. Not that I'm surprised. I've been expecting it since I turned twenty-one." He looks up now, looking right into Castiel's eyes. "Said I was a bad influence for Sammy. Hypocritical piece of shit. Kinda surprised he didn't end up here too, fucking alcoholic that he is." Castiel isn't sure who "Sammy" is, but he has a feeling that they're a younger sibling.

   "I'm not pretending to be an expert on your life, Dean," Castiel starts gently, "but any father who kicks their own son out of the house is an abysmal parent. You are not to blame." Dean snorts again at that, but it's far from a happy sound. The man somehow manages to make it sound self-deprecating. When he smiles next, it's twisted and dark.