Chapter Text
Dean Winchester never thought his life would turn out like this.
At thirty-six, he had settled into a rhythm—his café, his daughter, his little bubble of warmth in an otherwise unpredictable world. Some mornings, when the smell of fresh coffee filled the shop, and Claire sat across from him stealing bites of his pie, Dean almost believed that things were exactly as they should be.
But then there were the cracks—the ghost of Lisa’s voice, the weight of past wounds, the occasional lonely nights.
He never regretted leaving Lisa, not for a second. What he did regret was how much damage she had left behind. Claire barely spoke to her anymore, and Lisa blamed Dean for everything—her career struggles, Claire’s defiance, even her own deep-seated prejudices.
Dean sighed as he wiped down the counter, glancing up at the sound of the bell jingling over the door.
“Morning, Cas,” he greeted with an easy smile.
Castiel Novak, philosophy teacher, single dad, and painfully gorgeous Alpha, walked in with his daughter Emma at his side. Cas was dressed in his usual sharp slacks and a button-down, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d been running behind schedule.
“Dean,” Cas greeted, giving him that small, reserved smile that always made something warm settle in Dean’s chest. “We’ll take the usual.”
Emma rolled her eyes, nudging her dad playfully. “You should get something different for once, dad.”
Cas raised an eyebrow. “And risk disappointing your mother’s genes? Hardly.”
Dean chuckled as he turned toward the coffee machine. “Coming right up.”
Claire walked out from the back, spotting Emma immediately. “Hey, Em,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against Emma’s.
Emma smirked. “Morning, Winchester.”
Dean watched them with a fond smile. Claire and Emma had been inseparable since they met in Cas’s class. It made sense—the daughters of two single parents, both with complicated families, both fiercely protective of the people they loved.
Cas settled onto a barstool, his sharp blue eyes scanning Dean. “How’s business?”
Dean shrugged. “Same as always. Though I’ve got a new walnut honey pie recipe I’ve been meaning to try. Maybe you and Emma can be my taste testers.”
Cas tilted his head slightly. “I’d be honored.”
Dean felt the warmth creep up his neck, so he turned away, busying himself with the coffee. It was ridiculous, how easily Cas made him feel like a damn teenager.
“Dean,” Cas said suddenly, his voice quieter.
Dean glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Cas hesitated for a fraction of a second. “You look tired.”
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just a long night. Nothing new.”
Cas didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he said softly, “You know, you don’t have to do everything alone.”
Dean’s chest tightened slightly. He opened his mouth—to say what, he wasn’t sure—but before he could answer, Claire groaned dramatically.
“Oh my god,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “Can you two just date already?”
Dean choked on his coffee.
Emma burst out laughing. Cas, to his credit, merely tilted his head like a confused puppy.
Dean coughed, shooting his daughter a look. “Claire—”
Claire smirked. “What? It’s so obvious, mom. You literally blush every time Mr. Novak breathes in your general direction.”
Cas turned to Dean, completely serious. “You blush when I breathe?”
Dean groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”
Cas’s chuckle was soft, but warm. “For the record,” he said, taking his coffee, “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”
Dean froze. Wait. What?
Cas simply smiled, then turned toward the door. “Come along, Emma. We’ll be late.”
Dean watched him leave, his heart pounding as Claire grinned at him like the little menace she was.
“…Shut up,” he muttered, sipping his coffee to hide his very obvious blush.
Claire just smirked.