Authors Note: Disclaimer- I don't own these characters, I don't even own the plot line. Someone on tumblr made an AU meme, and someone else requested a fic, and I merely supplied. If you want to see anything in particular written into the story, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
Chapter 1
Dean let his left hand dangle out the open window of the Impala, enjoying the pleasant spring morning, even if it was a Monday. The fingers of his right hand tapped to the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove. He sighed in his head as Sam continued to babble on about Jess and Stanford and everything else in his life. It wasn't that Dean didn't love catching up with his brother- he did. But man, the kid could talk.
"So how's San Luis Obispo treating you?" Sam asked when he was done going into explicit detail about the class his favorite professor had taught the other day.
"Fine, fine," Dean replied. "Bobby's been letting me help out at the shop to make some money."
"Sounds great. Tell him I say hi." Through Sam's end of the phone, Dean could hear a door slam shut and Jess' voice calling for Sam. "Look, Jess just got home. I gotta go. Talk to you later."
"Later," Dean echoed, snapping his phone shut. He reached down and turned the music up slightly.
After their dad had died, and Sam had returned to college, Dean had decided to move to San Luis Obispo. He had driven down from Stanford, after dropping Sammy off. His eventual goal was to earn enough money to possibly buy a house, or at least rent a nicer place than the one he had at the moment. In the meantime, he continued working for Bobby at the old auto shop. He was great at fixing cars, and he enjoyed doing it, and hopefully he would take over one day.
Dean pulled over to his favorite diner, Harvelle's Roadhouse, for a slice of his favorite cherry pie before heading back to the shop.
The bell jingled as Dean opened the door, and the entire staff greeted him. He came often enough to know all of them by name. The owner, Ellen, even gave him the occasional discount. As he passed by the kitchen, he heard an unfamiliar voice.
"Jo, I got that order ready for Table 5." Dean saw the new voice belonged to a young man, maybe 2 years younger than Dean, working busily at the stove. He had a white cap on, but Dean could see untidy dark hair sticking out from underneath it. His blue eyes sparkled good naturedly as whistled away while he continued to work.
"Go ahead and seat yourself," Jo, Ellen's daughter, said, giving Dean a hug and a peck on the cheek as she rushed by to get the order. Dean sat in his usual booth by the window, watching people rush by. Jo reappeared, having given Table 5 their food.
"Let me guess… one slice of cherry pie, and a cup of coffee?" Jo asked, smiling as she recited his unchanging order. Dean nodded absentmindedly, focused more on the new chef.
"Who's the new guy?" he asked, and Jo laughed.
"Name's Castiel. He's kind of a weird guy, but he's a great cook, and he's just about the nicest person you'll ever meet. Makes a mean pie," she teased him. Dean only grunted in response, still giving the new guy ("Castiel," Dean reminded himself) a look over. The teasing smile slid from Jo's face.
"Oh, no no no. No you don't."
"What?" Dean replied defensively.
"I know that look. That's your how-fast-can-I-get-you-into-bed-with-me look." Jo pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow accusingly. "I don't need you scaring off another one of our staff. We just got him, and he's a hard worker."
"I don't have a I-want-to-get-you-in-bed look!" Dean protested.
"Oh yes you do. It's the same look you used to give me." Dean slouched, knowing she had him there. Back when he had first started eating at the Roadhouse, he had constantly tried to get Jo to go on a date with him. She continually refused, but it became a game between them, and now she was the best friend he had in the city.
"Fine, fine, I'll lay off," Dean grumbled. "You said he makes a mean pie?" Dean continued, smirking.
Jo smacked his shoulder affectionately. "Yeah. Olallieberry is his specialty."
"Olallieberry?" Dean said the word, his face scrunching up, almost disgustedly. "What the hell kind of name is that?"
Jo just shrugged in response. "I don't know, it's some kind of berry hybrid. Loganberry and youngberry, if I remember right." Dean gave her his best "what-the-hell?" face at all the weird berry names.
"Well, let's try that instead, then." Jo jotted down his order and walked away to give it to Castiel. Dean looked back towards the kitchen and saw the new chef chatting happily with a customer through the window. He threw back his head and laughed, revealing two rows of perfect teeth. Dean finally tore his eyes away, turning to look back outside the window as the rest of the town hurried by.
"Here you go. A cup of joe and one slice of olallieberry pie, fresh from the oven." Jo set down Dean's order on the table in front of him. Dean looked at the new pie with slight apprehension, picking up his fork and taking a bite. The berry exploded on his tongue with flavor. He looked back up at Jo, eyebrows raised.
"Holy shit. This is best pie I have ever tasted," Dean said incredulously, taking another large bite.
"Did I tell you he made a mean pie, or did I tell you he made a mean pie," Jo teased him. The bell rang as another customer walked through the door, and Jo hurried off to assist him. Dean quickly ate the rest of the slice in a near reverent silence. When he finished, he leaned back in the booth, patting his stomach with a satisfied sigh.
Dean glanced down at his watch, realizing he was almost late for work. He gulped down his coffee, slapped down some money on the table, and hurried towards the door. In his rush, he failed to watch where he was going, and all but crashed into the new guy.
"Easy there," Castiel said, grabbing Dean's arm to help him regain his balance. Dean glanced up, a thank you on his lips, when he was taken aback by the intensity of the blue of this man's eyes.
"Er, uh, thanks, uh yeah. For the, uh, catching me. And the, er, the pie, it was delicious," Dean stuttered out.
"My pleasure…?" Castiel paused, waiting for a name.
"Dean. Winchester," Dean said, holding out his hand.
"Castiel," he replied, shaking Dean's hand with a smile. "I'm glad you like the pie. I spent quite a few years perfecting it."
"Well, I'll spend quite a few years enjoying it. Er, well, I mean…" Dean trailed off, blushing slightly when he realized how awkward he sounded. Castiel raised an eyebrow in amusement. There was a moment of silence between them.
"I gotta get back to work…" Castiel said, gesturing over his shoulder back at the kitchen.
"Right! Right. Me too," Dean replied, nodding slightly. "Er, uh, it was nice meeting you."
"You too." Dean thought he could almost hear a smirk in the response.
Dean decided to leave before he could embarrass himself further, the door jingling as he left. Dean arrived at Bobby's garage a few minutes late, muttering an apology as he blew through the door. He could still taste the pie on his lips.
The next day, Dean returned to the Roadhouse. He sat himself as usual, choosing a seat closer to the kitchen than his normal place. Jo spotted him from behind the counter.
"Another slice of pie?" Dean nodded in response, busy trying to peer past her into the kitchen. Jo pulled a plate out from under the counter, sliding a slice of pie onto it.
"He's not here," she said, coming around the counter and placing the plate in front of Dean.
"Who's not here?" Dean replied innocently.
Jo rolled her eyes. "Cas works Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays from 7 to 9 in the morning, and then again from 6-11 at night."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean attempted to glance at his nails nonchalantly.
"I'm sure you don't," Jo replied, leaving Dean with his food. Dean ate the pie more slowly this time, savoring it. As he ate, he thought back to the day before. Castiel's voice had been deep and smooth, and his hair looked delightfully messy underneath the cap he wore. From what Dean could tell, he had a pretty nice body, slender but toned. Dean had always thought that a handshake spoke a lot about a guy, and his had been firm and friendly. Most of all, Dean thought back to his eyes. Yeah, Dean could tell they were blue from his seat to the kitchen, but up close, they were blue. Dean felt cheesy simply thinking it, but they were the bluest blue he had ever seen.
Dean shook himself from his stupor. He left his money on the table again and stood up, already mentally preparing himself to be smoother when they "accidentally" bumped into each other again on Thursday.