heartslantern-deactivated201705:

okay since i know this happened 0.2 billion years ago and to make up for  that, you get a ficlet mkay??

Arms, hands, coated with black oil up to his elbows that shone a little in the light — perhaps war paint against the machine in his careful hands that darted in, out, among.

To the observer, it seemed that he’d never seen anyone as at home among the twists of grinding metal, the low rumble of a faulty heating system, the predatory growls of cars that rumbled in and out of the shop like stalking big cats made of steel and fiberglass.

To the observer, the mechanic looked distinctly as though he would blend in, the other man’s eyes a distracting shade of brilliant green being the only way to distinguish a grey uniform, dark blond hair coated in accumulated dust and dulled by smoke and clouded air.

Carefully, the observer wove his way through the maze of mismatched chairs in the shop’s tiny reception area, past a low table with magazines of classic cars and wait was that porn?

Still, questionable tastes in literature aside, this was where he’d trusted to see his car fixed, and finding the receiving desk empty, he pushed past the door and stood awkwardly for a moment on the other side, looking out into the near wasteland of parts and car skeletons.

Somewhere, someone was playing Led Zeppelin, and he thought idly that it was Kashmir, one of the few songs he’d listened to of the band and thoroughly enjoyed.

After a few more, what seemed like agonizingly long and thus painful minutes, the observer found himself approached by none other than the mechanic with the green eyes, who raised both of his eyebrows at the other man and let loose a brilliant grin as he stuck out an oil-coated palm.

“Lookin’ for somethin’? M’Dean. Kinda own the place.”

Dean. His name was Dean.

Taking the hand in his own, the observer swallowed. Hard. It looked like he wasn’t going to be here just to pick up his car anymore.

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel.”

The mechanic — Dean — scrunched up his face for a second, both likely at Castiel’s name as well as something else, and Castiel blinked only to find that Dean had poked him in the nose and was now rubbing at something repeatedly. Taking an awkward step back, Dean grinned sheepishly, eyes winking.

“Had somethin’ on your nose, but that probably didn’t help.”

Silence for a second, then Castiel smiled a little. It was hesitant, it was unsure, but it was there. Something about Dean had automatically loosened him up somehow.

“No, I don’t suppose it did. Could you help me find my car?”

Another brilliant smile, a wave towards his realm of smoke and steel and oiled hands.

“C’mon in, Cas. Let’s get this party started.”