#i think castis and ellen would actually get on fine but it would take a While to warm up

[milkybishop]

not the best thing to say to someone who lost their parents, but understandable when your dad is Castis Vakarian

[thefandomsinhalor]

Pie Makes Everything Better

Written for: @mercurialkitty who, for my 400 followers celebration, had requested something sweet about fall/thanksgiving :) (thank you, this was super fun to write!! Xxx)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Word Count: 3445

Warnings: None

Rating: General

Additional tags: Alternate Universe—Bakery, Fluff, Thanksgiving, Sam Knows, Pie.

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving and Dean is desperate for an apple pie. Luckily, there is still one bakery that appears to be open. And Dean finds the cashier to be very kind and handsome.

Read on AO3

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“Dean, don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”

“Nope. Turn right.”

“We’re already la—”

“No—no, we are not,” he cut him off. “And we are doing this. Turn right at the light, again,” he said, after glimpsing at his phone.

“But everyone is already at the house,” said Sam, following his directions. “Including Ellen and Bobby, and they were the ones who were supposed to arrive late.”

Sam shot a look at his brother, hoping he would be reasonable. But Dean was making a moue.

“We are not having Thanksgiving dinner without apple pie. For. Get. It.” Although Dean couldn’t see him, he knew his brother was rolling his eyes at him.

“I know it sucks, but it won’t be the end of the world.”

“Sam,” huffed Dean, “I feel like crap. I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m exhausted, work has been nuts all week, I have just gotten off a freaking plane—yes, plane—and we, or rather, you, are driving us around in this…car—”

“It’s a rental, you judgmental ass! You’re lucky I came to pick you up at the airport.”

“—and now,” continued Dean, utterly unfazed by his brother’s comment, “you’re telling me that not one single person brought dessert? How is that possible? Not even Mom made her traditional pie?”

“Mom did everything else,” pointed out Sam.

“I know and I—but I have been looking forward to this freaking meal all year and it ain’t about to be ruined by the fact that there’s no apple pie. I can live with the fact that it won’t be Mom’s, but I need my damn pie for Thanksgiving dinner.” He let out a massive sigh as he leaned back in the passenger seat. “Just…please? It’s the only bakery listed as open.”

“I’m driving you, aren’t I? But Dean, they might not even be open. The holiday hours are probably not displayed online.”

But Dean shook his head, looking straight ahead, eagerly scanning for the shop. “It says it’s open, so it has to be open. We’re lucky to have found one place that still is.”

A few minutes later, Sam and Dean spotted the shop in question down the street.

A nice little bakery, with large windows and a sign displaying wings embraced by a golden halo.

And the “Open” sign hanging in the door.

Sam barely had the time to stop the car and Dean was already opening his door, jumping out of the vehicle. He gunned for the entrance, took a deep breath, pulled on the door and stepped inside.

The place was empty.

No customers seated at the small round tables. Nor at the counter.

And no one behind the counter either.

Just as he was about to call for help, someone, with a low, gravelly voice, said from the back room, “I’ll be right with you!”

“Okay. Thanks!”

Stepping towards the display of pastries at the counter, Dean hastily searched for his desired item.

Cakes. Cinnamon rolls. Scones. Croissants. Éclairs. And so on.

But, unfortunately, no pie in sight. Of any kind.

And even though Dean had to admit that everything his eyes fell on was mouthwatering, panic nonetheless spread through his chest at that sad fact. His only glimmer of hope, it seemed, was that pie—apple pie—was listed on the menu above.

“Did you find it?” asked Sam, who had now reached his side.

“Not yet. I’m waiting for them to come to the counter.”

“Looks promising so far, though,” said Sam, pointing at the display.

“Right? Everything looks great. That raspberry cheesecake looks like something.”

“Yeah. I bet Dad wouldn’t say no to that. We should get a few things while we’re here,” suggested Sam.

“Good idea, seeing as they have a lot of options.”

It was at this moment that a dark-haired man, wearing a bright blue apron, finally appeared from the back room. “Happy Thanksgiving and welcome to Wings and Halo,” he said, bursting through the door. At the sight of Sam and Dean, however, he momentarily paused, and then stepped forward, with a shy smile forming itself on his face. “Sorry for the wait. What can I do for you?”

“One apple pie, please,” said Dean with such enthusiasm it was as if his life depended on it. “Sam? Go nuts, pick anything you want.”

The man’s smile vanished, however.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re all out of apple pie.”

Dean’s heart stopped. He stared helplessly at him, in disbelief of his answer.

“Dean, I—I told you it could happen,” argued Sam, after a long uncomfortable minute of silence. “But it’s okay. There’s plenty of other stuff to cho—”

But Dean didn’t want to hear it. He waved his hand at Sam to stop him, took a deep breath and looked at the cashier straight in the eyes.

His piercing blue eyes.

“Look, I—um, I—sorry, what’s your name?” asked Dean, noticing the employee wasn’t wearing a nametag.

“Castiel.”

“Look, Casti—wait, Castiel? Really? That’s, um, that’s an interesting name.” Castiel remained silent. “And, um, I’m guessing I’m not the only one who ever said that, right?”

“I’m afraid not, no.” He had said it in a very nonchalant way, but a faint smile had appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Of which, Dean couldn’t help but take note of its shape. And this, for an unnecessary long time.

While remaining perfectly silent.

Sam cleared his throat.

“Right,” said Dean. “Okay, well, Castiel, um—”

“Cas.”

Dean froze.

“You may call me, Cas.”

“Oh. Um, Cas, I—look, I’m sorry. I know it’s just the way things are and I really don’t want to be that prissy customer, because who needs that, but I—you’re sure you don’t have any left? I’ll pay double or—”

“Dean,” hissed Sam, nearly outraged.

But that didn’t slow him down.

“I—I’m begging you,” he continued. “I know it’s not your problem, but I just had the worst day and—I really could go for some apple pie. Like, I don’t want to say that you’d save the day, but yeah. You totally would.”

Convinced that Castiel was most likely assessing his mental health after his over-the-top plea, Dean waited patiently under Castiel’s watchful eye.

Then, he finally said, “I’m sorry, um—Dean? Was it?” Dean nodded, holding his breath. “I—I’m sorry, Dean. We really are all out of apple pie. Because of the holiday, what we have left is what’s in the display for today.”

Dean shut his eyes as he actually felt his heart grow heavy. “Okay. Thank you, Cas. I under—thank you for your time. I appreciate it. Really.” He knew it had been a long shot, but he still felt disappointed. “Sammy, just…you go ahead and pick the other desserts.”

Reluctantly, he stepped away from the counter, looking at the ground, with his hands in his pockets.

“Dean, wait,” said Castiel. “I was going to suggest an alternative.”

Dean lifted his eyes.

“I had set aside a pumpkin pie for myself this morning. It was meant for a snack in the afternoon, but I’ve been so busy, I didn’t even get a chance to have a bite. I usually wouldn’t suggest it, because it was technically speaking ‘off the shelves,’ and that I handled it. But it’s intact. And I know it’s not apple, but it’s the closest to it I have. And the pumpkin pie is incredibly delicious. So, if you want, it’s yours.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? That would be ama—” started saying Dean, but stopped mid-sentence. Overwhelmed by Castiel’s gesture, Dean then felt guilty accepting his generous offer. “You don’t have to do this,” he added urgently. “It doesn’t seem fair. That pie was yours. No, Sam’s right, we—we’ll be fine with any other dessert.”

“It’s no problem. I’m closing in less than an hour, and I’ll have a full meal waiting for me then. You seemed to have your heart set on a pie. It would be my pleasure.”

The two men stared at each other kindly, and then Dean said, “All right, then. Yes, please. But only if you’re sure you’re okay with this.”

“I am.”

“Okay, um, we’ll take that one to go. Thank you,” said Dean, not believing his luck.

Castiel nodded and stepped away from the counter to fetch the pie. The moment he disappeared behind the door leading to the back room, Dean turned to Sam with a massive grin on his face. “This is awesome. See!” he said, hitting him on the arm. “I knew this place would work out. We saved the day and we get to bring some pie home with us.”

“Yeah. That’s awesome for sure.” And then, Sam, trying to keep his face straight, added, “And, um, I bet the pie isn’t the only thing you’d like to take home with you.”

“What?”

“Oh, you heard me.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam snorted. “Denial. So typical, Dean.”

Dean shot him an angry look. “I don’t—shut up.”

“I’m just trying to help,” he said, laughing.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Their brotherly quarrel got interrupted when Sam’s phone buzzed.

“It’s Dad,” he said, checking his phone. “Apparently, there’s been an accident on the highway and now he’s worried about why we’re taking forever to get there.”

“Just tell him we’re fine and that we took a detour,” said Dean. But he was prompted to add, under his brother’s firm stare, “…and that my stomach is the one to blame for the delay.”

The door swung open and Castiel appeared with a box in hands. “Here it is.” He slid the box on the counter and opened it for Dean to see for himself.

One perfect-looking pumpkin pie, with gorgeous crust leaf ornaments.

“That’s great. Thanks again.”

“No problem. Oh, and I should warn you, though, there’s a dash of whiskey in it. Does that still hold your interest?”

Stunned once again, Dean gawked at him, processing the information.

Which left Sam the opportunity to answer, “Oh, trust me, he’s interested.”

“Terrific,” said Castiel, closing the box delicately, while Dean glared at Sam, silently telling him to cut it out. “Was there anything else I could do for you today?”

“So many things I want to say right now,” muttered Sam.

“Um, yes. We’ll—we’ll get a few more desserts to go, if that’s all right,” said Dean, attempting as best he could to not look at his brother, whom, he knew, was most definitely smirking at him.

Sam and Dean then quickly selected five additional desserts from the display for them to bring, and as Castiel was finishing packaging a box of Danishes, Sam’s phone rang.

“I wonder who that could be?” he sneered.

“Ask them if they want anything,” said Dean, pointing at the counter.

Sam nodded and, after politely excusing himself, he stepped away from them to answer his call.

Thus, leaving Dean and Castiel to themselves for a moment.

With nothing else to do but stare at each other awkwardly.

So it seemed.

After a long minute of silence, one where Dean felt embarrassed every time he diverted his gaze away from Castiel the moment he realized the man was looking at him, Dean finally cleared his throat and said, resolute to kill the silence, “So, um, it’s—the shop…you’re nice. I mean, your shop. It’s a nice shop.”

Only to immediately regret his decision.

“That’s very kind of you to say so, Dean. Although, I cannot claim I had much to do about that,” said Castiel. “Is this your first time here?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“But, um, in my defense,” continued Dean, “I’m from out of town, so…”

“Oh, you don’t live in Lawrence?”

Suddenly upset by that fact, Dean answered, “Um, no. I’m visiting my parents. For Thanksgiving.”

Castiel nodded. “I don’t either. Live here, I mean. I’m visiting family, as well.”

Dean frowned, glancing around the shop. Castiel, understanding his confusion, added, “This is my brother’s shop. I’m simply helping him out this weekend for the holiday rush and in return he takes care of the whole meal. Well, most of it.”

“Awesome. That’s…awesome.” He paused briefly. Long enough to realize he was staring at him like an idiot. “So, Cas, um, since you’re visiting, can I ask—just out of curiosity—where do you live? Is it still close to Lawrence or…”

“I’m afraid not. It’s over six hours by car from here. I live in Pontiac, Illinois.”

“What? No way. I—I—” he let out a laugh, “I live in Normal.”

Castiel blinked. “Normal, Illinois?”

“Yeah. That’s—like, what? Less than an hour away from Pontiac?”

“I believe so, yes. How curious.”

“Yeah.” And unable to stop himself, he asked, “And have any big plans tonight?”

“Besides Thanksgiving dinner, you mean?”

Feeling like an imbecile, Dean shut his eyes a moment when he realized what he had just said. Determined to save himself from further embarrassment, he opted to simply nod at Castiel and keep his mouth shut until Sam’s return.

He quickly gave up on his resolution, however, when his eyes locked with Castiel. “I meant—um, until when are you staying?”

Castiel hesitated for a short instant. “Probably Sunday at the latest. Though, I suppose it will depend on the road conditions.”

“You drove all the way here?”

He nodded. “I usually travel by plane, but I…I had to bring down a few pieces of furniture I had promised my brother at the end of the summer and—anyway,” he said, waving his hand. “I—long story, it was less complicated—and less expensive—if I travelled by car this year. So, in order to avoid the storm, I left late afternoon on Tuesday. I was lucky enough to be able to do so, anyway.” Castiel’s eyes shifted to Sam who was still avidly speaking on the phone. “What about you?”

“I came here by plane at the last minute. Because of the storm. I actually envy you. I much prefer driving and without my car, I—well, anyway. I shouldn’t complain. I still made it and I get to see my family. Especially Sammy. I don’t get to see my brother as often as I’d like.”

“Brother? You—Sam’s your brother?”

His pulse racing, Dean gave him an urgent nod.

“Oh.” And a smile appeared on Castiel’s face. “That’s what I thought at first but then I—”

Dean shifted on his feet. “And that’s—that’s an important distinction? For you, I mean?” he asked with caution.

“It is a relevant detail, yes.”

“In a good way?”

“I hope so.”

Blood rushed to Dean’s cheeks and he couldn’t do anything but stare at him awkwardly.

Meanwhile, Sam, who had been finished with his phone call and was then standing next to Dean, a fact unnoticed by the other two, observed the scene with attention and amusement. When he judged that a significant amount of time had passed, enough to border into awkwardness, he cleared his throat, thus making Dean nearly jump out of his skin.

“Sam, you’re back. Did you—did anyone make a request?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. I mentioned briefly what the options were. Everyone is happy with what we selected. That being said, I think if we leave without some powdered mini donuts, Donna is gonna murder us.”

“Let’s make sure you don’t leave without some, then,” said Castiel.

After Castiel had finished preparing the box and putting everything else in bags so it would be easier for them to carry, he asked, “Was that everything?”

Sam and Dean nodded to him. Dean quietly paid the bill, glancing at Castiel every chance he got.

While Dean shoved his wallet back in his pocket, Castiel placed the receipt in one of the bags, then slid them on the counter and gave Sam and Dean a bright smile.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Sam and Dean wished him.

And everyone stayed put.

Sam was eyeing his brother with a growing smirk on his face. Dean was gazing at Castiel, as anxiety was spreading in his chest. And Castiel, bouncing his eyes back and forth between Sam and Dean, wondered by every second that passed why neither of them had moved.

“Is there a problem?” he finally asked.

At Dean’s silence, Sam said, “I think Dean, who, by the way, is super single, wants to say something.”

Dean turned towards him, aghast. “Sam! What the—” He scoffed. “Subtle, Sammy. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Relieved that Castiel was smiling warmly, Dean, nonetheless, felt incredibly embarrassed.

“Sam, could you—a little privacy, please?” He handed over one of the bags to his brother, hoping for him to leave them alone.

Sam gladly held the bag. He also remained on his spot, grinning and shaking his head at Dean’s request. “Oh, I’m staying here and seeing this thing through until the end.”

“No, you’re not,” hissed Dean.

And Sam’s only reply was a mischievous grin.

Dean rolled his eyes, let out a deep sigh of exasperation and turned all his attention to Castiel, who was patiently waiting for him.

Still harboring a smile.

Dean swallowed hard.

“So, I was thinking,” Dean began saying with a wavering voice, “I—obviously not tonight—but, um, if you’re free one—an evening, I—I’d like to see you again. If you want.”

After what seemed like an eternity to Dean, Castiel said, “We usually have long hours during weekends like this. And as it’s partially why I’m here—to help my brother,” Castiel reminded him, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to wander too far off from the shop, even in the evenings.”

“Right.”

“But,” continued Castiel, “while I wouldn’t be able to leave the shop, if you want, we could meet here during the afternoon. It was busy earlier today, but that was mostly due to the fact that we were the only shop open and—anyway. The point is that the afternoon is usually not peak hour. In fact, it’s typically dead during that time, much like right now,” he said, gesturing around them. “So, if you want—I—I know it’s not anything grand in terms of—”

“I like it.”

A shy smile appeared on his lips. “Yes?”

Dean nodded vehemently. “I’d like that very much.”

“Okay. When?”

After a short hesitation, Dean said, “Tomorrow too soon?”

“No,” he laughed. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

“Awesome. I’ll bring coffee. Or would you prefer something more festive? Like apple cider? Hot chocolate?”

“That sounds delicious.”

“All right, then. I’ll bring both.”

And they spent a long minute, gazing at each other with bright smiles, utterly silent.

“As much as I’d like to continue witnessing what’s happening here,” said Sam in a low voice, “Dean, we need to leave or we will get skinned by everyone when we get home.”

“Okay.”

But Dean didn’t move. He simply stayed put, staring at Castiel. Acknowledging that Dean hadn’t heard a single word he had just said, Sam rolled his eyes, feeling as annoyed as he was amused.

“Fine,” snorted Sam. “Let me put it this way then: the longer we stay, the more stuff you’re supplying for me to report back at home.”

And with that, Dean snapped out of it. “Wow. Look at the time.” He grabbed the other bag, as he cleared his throat. “We—I’m sorry, Cas. Um, we—Sam’s right. We really have to go.”

“Of course. Don’t worry. See you tomorrow.”

Dean gave Castiel a short nod and headed towards the exit with Sam following him. But before he reached the door, Castiel said, “And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Dean stopped so abruptly, Sam nearly slammed into him.

“I’ll make sure that there will be an apple pie.”

And gawking back at him, Dean replied, “More than one thing to be looking forward to, then. But still doesn’t beat the first one.”

And with that, Dean got the pleasure of watching Castiel’s smile widened.

“Oh. My. God,” said Sam. “Guys, seriously, I’m two seconds away from calling the cuteness police.”

Beaming at Castiel like a fool, Dean said goodbye once more before leaving the shop. He didn’t complain once on the way to the house.

He even hummed to the cheesy songs Sam selected on the radio.

He spent the night gleeful, chuckling at everybody’s jokes.

He absolutely savored every single bite of that pumpkin pie with his eyes closed, ignoring Sam who was laughing his head off at the sight of him.

And at night, in his bed and listening to the wind brushing against trees, he slowly drifted into sleep, recalling the way Castiel’s deep voice was pronouncing his name.