This is not the story of two losers falling in love over a hundred pages. This is those two losers fighting for it.

---

It's just as every other Tuesday, which coincidentally happens to be just as every other day of the week.

Boring.

Castiel frowns, a gesture that he's picked up from his coworker, Janet-she does it whenever she's discontent.

And if Castiel has to assign an emotion to himself, discontent sums it up pretty well. It's just like being bored, which is really no more than a dull buzzing at the back of his head. However, if it's mixed with annoyance, it could become a very unfortunate combination for anyone around. Castiel learned this when his brother Gabriel, was bored a few thousand years back and accidentally created the first platypus.

The bell attached to the front door dings. Someone walks in, heading straight for the snack food aisle. Typical.

Castiel drums his fingers on the counter, watching whoever this man may be.

Nothing extraordinary, really. He is neither aesthetically nor spiritually pleasing. His soul is darker, even. Tainted with the smoke of cigarettes and other such sins.

He grabs what he's looking for, heading-or moreso waddling up to the cash; arms stuffed with chips and pop cans.

"Hello sir." The angel greets, accepting and scanning each item. The man grunts in response.

How rude, Castiel thinks as he scans the last bag of diabetes, informing the man that his total would be eleven ninety-five. Once again, he earns a grunt, and Castiel can't help but wonder why this man's so grumpy.

Judging by the smell it might be alcoholism, or maybe just the erectile dysfunction. Who knows, humans are weird.

"Thanks." The man mumbles when Castiel bags his groceries, and from even that one word he knows that the man's name is Daryl. He has a wife, but they're taking a break. Daryl smokes marijuana and often indulges in a few beers on every day ending in y.

"You are very welcome." Castiel replies after a pause. "Have a nice day."

"Yeah, whatever." Daryl growls, and just like that, his day is back to boring.

The slushie machine breaks down twice more, thirteen people and one dog come in, but nothing new or exciting happens for the most part.

The rush hour is usually after dinner, and even then, rushing is just a polite way of saying all the alcoholics run in for their nightly case of beer.

Castiel checks the analog clock laying beside the cash register. It reads 5:53, meaning his shift is only another forty five minutes or so, before Janet will replace him. Groaning, he stretches and pops his joints, wishing for nothing more than to stretch his wings or talk with another angel.

But, it's been almost a year since he last saw any angel, and said angel happened to be Balthazar, crashing through his front window; as usual he was piss poor drunk. Castiel could just call someone up, but then they would scold him for living such a mundane life.

Two men walk in, chatting in hushed voices about some pornography website, but Castiel can still hear them as they snap him out of his thoughts.

Angel perks, you could say.

Their souls aren't magnificent either, and to judge them based on appearance could be considered pedophilia in most countries; seeing that they're barely seventeen and the angel's vessel sits at thirty-six.

"Hey man, got any porn mags?" one of them asks with a snicker, leaning in to elbow his buddy.

"Back wall." Castiel replies, his face and practically entire being completely emotionless. He gets this often, awkward blushing teens who think that they're all that, when really they're barely half way there.

The bell dings again, but that isn't what distracts Castiel from the two idiots in the corner. It's the man that walks in. The first thing he notices is the way the man's soul shines through his rough exterior, illuminating the entire store in a bright golden light that only Castiel can see. The next thing to click is his dirty blonde hair, stunning green eyes, rough knuckles, and ripped jeans.

If there was such a thing as a righteous man this is it, he thinks, watching mystery man in awe.

Castiel's almost frozen to the spot when he speaks; his voice a low and mildly seductive growl, demanding one thing, "Beer?"

The angel only points at the standing freezer beside the cash, still transfixed by everything about this man. He nods, walking past. Castiel's eyes linger on him, trying to figure him out.

He can't be read as easily as the others...all he can get is Dean, so that might be his name, but Sam is a close second. Maybe that's his middle name.

The man, Dean...Sam...whatever, picks out a case and brings it up to the cash, pulling out his equally rugged wallet.

All Castiel can do is stare.

The man laughs, an enthralling sound. "You gonna ring this up, or...?"

"Of course." Castiel shakes his head, grabbing the case and pulling it across the scanner. The Dean-Sam looks up to meet Castiel's eyes, and he can't help but notice how quickly they flit back down, his soul now glowing a dull pink.

Castiel smiles, typing in the required keys to open the register as the man hands him a twenty. "Don't worry about the change."

"Pardon?" Castiel looks up from the cash, but the man is pointedly staring anywhere but at the angel.

"I said it's okay. Keep the change."

"Oh." Castiel simply says. "Thank you, sir."

"Name's Dean." He blurts, his eyes daring to hold Castiel's for a second. "And you're...Steve?"

"Eh, no, I'm C-yeah, Steve." Castiel replies, sighing a bit at the whole stay secret game he has to play.

When you're a fallen angel, there's a small price over your head, known quite simply as bounty hunters. Rogue angels that retrieve any strays to do who-knows-what with them.

"Huh." Dean grunts, heaving the beer into one hand. "You don't look like no Steve."

"I don't?"

"Naw." He starts to depart, smiling at Castiel as he goes. "I was expecting something more extravagant."

Castiel just smiles sadly, watching Dean as he walks away. The man's mind is buzzing with colours of all sorts, even dizzying Castiel. Before he's fully out of the door, he turns back to yell, "You look more like a Jimmy, or Clarence or something!"

Then he's gone, heading over to a massive and quite well taken care of car. Another man is in the passenger's seat, the words Dean, Stanford, Jess and holy cow he takes a while floating through his head.

That must be Sam, who might be Dean's brother, or close friend. Or partner. Who knows.

He watches them drive away, picking up snippets of their conversation, and even a strange tug that he hasn't felt in years.

Almost feels like a prayer to him; like he's being pulled toward that peculiar human that he'll never see again. He'll go back to his house that he shares with an equally lonely cat, and forget all about Dean.

Sure, he's never seen a soul that bright, but it's probably just a fluke. He's been cut off from Heaven for years now, he might just be imagining things even.

* * *

These thoughts trouble him all the way home, and even when he settles down into his usual armchair, it's like he's being yanked out of it.

Whether it's by his own mind or another otherworldly force, he'll never know. All he knows is that a walk could probably clear his head, so that's what he settles for.

Normally, he would just fly wherever, but tonight he wanted to feel human; to rebel any further if one could.

Of course, he can't feel the cold mist that settles on the shoulders of his trusty trench coat, or be bothered by the slightly acidic tang in the air, but he can see the mist and pretend to care about the odour. It's as close to human as he'll ever be.

Over the rumble of the cars and yowling of stray animals, he can also hear a faint whisper. It's not the common tongue that humans speak in, it's barely even a spoken language.

He knows what it is, the chatter of his siblings, yet to fall like himself, mixed among with prayers sent on the wind.

Learning to ignore them both is the key to sanity, or as close to it as he'll ever get.

Castiel kicks a rock away from his foot, watching it bounce down the sidewalk until it lands in a sewer with a plop. He can remember the days before time, when he would be able to bend entire galaxies with only the sheer willpower.

Now, it's like he's on a battery charge. His powers are intact, but will run out if he uses them excessively. The most he can do is kick a pebble.

Maybe he can still bend time with a flick of his wrist, but everything has a domino effect, and knowing him he'd accidentally destroy the Earth, or himself in the process.

But it's a nice thought. Castiel takes a sharp right turn, walking slowly down the next street. There's a group of people slinking around the stop sign at the far corner, so rather than meet conflict, Castiel crosses and slips into the park.

It's equally as questionable and dark in the small park, the only sound being the gentle clinking of the swing chains in the light wind. No one's here, and even Castiel's enforced eyes can't see the dark corners, but he isn't worried about an attack.

The other angels keep to themselves, flitting about Castiel like he's just another human.

Lowering himself down to sit on one of the swings, Castiel sighs when the layer of rainwater on it decides to soak through his pants and trench coat.

"The perks of being human." He whispers, resting his elbows on his knees. Although it's comfortable, if anyone catches him it'll be quite an interesting situation to talk himself out of.

So of course he's walking again, wet rear and all. His intention is to go home, but for whatever reason his feet have brought him to the front of a dusty and rather rundown motel. No one is outside from what he can see, but there is a light on somewhere in the back.

Carefully, Castiel slips along the side of the building to where the light is, both surprised and somewhat relieved to find it none other than the Dean, leaning against a wall; cigarette and beer in each hand, a satisfied smile on his face.

Castiel makes to say something, before realizing how terrible that would turn out. Dean takes a drag and looks over to where Castiel is, but looks away again, only seeing shadows.

Each second passing is an abundance of decisions, all flying through Castiel's mind at a dizzying pace. Does he go? Does he stay? Why does he care for this man? Who is he?

None of the questions are answered, however, because Dean stomps out the cigarette and wordlessly disappears back inside. Castiel groans.

He doesn't know why, but this...human is the most enthralling thing he's ever set his eyes on.

And whether it's creepy or not, he wants him in every way possible.

---

btw friends Cas still has his powers (they're just limited slightly)