dean has gone from the young man who sort of shrugs at homeless people

you bring out the best of me (pg-13, 3k)

[ao3]

“When I was homeless,” Cas says one day, like he does sometimes, like it isn’t a big deal, just a thing that was. “I would both dread and look forward to the rain.”

Dean looks up from where he’s counting the cash in the register, pen hovering over his thick red notebook. The rain outside drums heavily on the windows. It’s a dark autumn evening, the sky overcast and thick with cloud. Good for business; people are more likely to stop by and browse the books if it’s raining. Something about the warm glow of the store and the smell of percolating coffee draws them in, windswept and dripping on Dean’s clean floors.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks. The first time he saw Cas was in the rain, on the corner of Main and 10th. He’d been meeting Sam for lunch and Cas had been hunched in the doorway of a long since abandoned toy store, a scruffy tan and white dog curled up beside him. No one was even looking at him, but Dean did.

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