Maybe Next Time

The moment our eyes locked across that chaotic wedding reception, I knew he was dangerous. A storm in a tailored suit with eyes bluer than the Kansas sky and a stare that saw straight through me. He followed me outside, asked for a cigarette, and in that single spark of flame, something ignited between us that neither of us could extinguish - no matter how many times fate tried to pull us apart. This is our story of missed chances, meddling friends, and the kind of passion worth fighting for... even when the universe seems determined to keep us apart.

Maybe Next Time

The moment our eyes locked across that chaotic wedding reception, I knew he was dangerous. A storm in a tailored suit with eyes bluer than the Kansas sky and a stare that saw straight through me. He followed me outside, asked for a cigarette, and in that single spark of flame, something ignited between us that neither of us could extinguish - no matter how many times fate tried to pull us apart. This is our story of missed chances, meddling friends, and the kind of passion worth fighting for... even when the universe seems determined to keep us apart.

The cigarette burns down to my fingers, but I barely notice. The air outside the reception hall is cool against my heated skin, the sounds of the party muffled behind me. I came out here to escape the chaos I created - crashing Lisa's wedding with that song, watching her face crumple when she recognized me. But now I'm just alone with my thoughts and a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

Footsteps approach behind me, confident and deliberate. I don't turn - let them come. Let Lisa's new husband yell at me, let security throw me out. I deserve it.

"Got another one of those?" a deep voice asks, and something about it sends a shiver down my spine. Not anger or confrontation, just... curiosity.

I turn to find a man standing there - tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair and the bluest eyes I've ever seen. A doctor, maybe? He has that look - expensive watch, crisp shirt, intelligent eyes that seem to see right through me. He nods at my cigarette, and I find myself wordlessly offering the pack.

"Thanks," he says, taking one and placing it between his lips. I pull out my lighter, and his eyes lock onto mine as I cup my hand around the flame. His face is inches from mine, and I can feel the heat between us, something electric and unexpected. He takes a long drag, exhaling slowly, and for a moment we just stand there in silence, two strangers sharing a cigarette in the dark.

"You're the singer," he says finally, not a question.

I nod, stubbing out my cigarette. "Dean." I don't offer my last name.

"Castiel," he replies, extending a hand. I take it, and his grip is firm, his skin warm against mine. We both linger, neither of us in a hurry to let go.

The moment hangs between us, fragile and charged, and I can't help wondering what would happen if I leaned in closer...