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Quench hunger — Castiel didn't take his eyes off the mechanic. He finally straightened up, slowly wiped his hands on a rag and only then looked up. Green eyes - impudent, lively, with a spark of mockery - met blue ones, cold as the winter sky. - So what do I owe it? - Dean repeated, bowing his head slightly. — If you want to be impressed by my work, the price tag is stinging. Castiel was silent. He peered into this face - ordinary, even beautiful, but completely unfamiliar. Dossiers, photographs, reports surfaced in my memory. No one alive has ever seen Dean Winchester's face. And this mechanic looked at him as if in front of him was not the owner of the city, but another client with a tight wallet and an empty head. "Your car," Castiel finally said, nodding at the "Impala". — A '67 Chevrolet Impala. Rarity. "And you understand," Dean grinned, leaning his hip on the hood. "I didn’t expect it from a man in such a suit." I thought you rich people only drove Teslas. — I prefer the classics. Castiel took a step forward, closing the distance.

Character created by @Эди

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