Honestly, Dean Winchester never wanted to be a chef.

It wasn't as if he'd grown up planning to do something so girly—at least, it was girly in his father's eyes. That was why he'd initially gone to technical school to be a mechanic. It was dirty, gritty, hands-on work that made him sweat and curse and that was what being a man felt like, wasn't it?

Still, when he came home from school, Dean always found himself in the calm quiet of the kitchen, whipping up dinner and dessert and tomorrow's lunch for himself and for Sammy, and those were the times when he was happy with what he'd created. That was the difference. Being a mechanic meant always fixing—always elbows deep in someone's mistake, someone's problem. Cooking was different. It was all creating and molding and ideas and flavors and smells and the warmth of the oven on his face instead of the heat of an engine. Sammy's grins around mouthfuls of pie made Dean far happier than a customer's ungrateful sigh when their car was picked up from the shop.

That was what made Dean decide to pursue cooking.

Of course, one of the benefits of both jobs was that Dean didn't have to deal with people. It wasn't that he didn't like people, necessarily, just that it was easier not to deal with them. Dean could come off gruff and grumpy a lot of the time and from his experience, it wasn't something that customers particularly appreciated. Hiding out in the kitchen meant that he could work in peace, only having to converse with people that knew him well—like the waitresses.

The whole staff at the Roadhouse was like family—Ellen, the owner, was more of a mother than Dean and Sammy had ever had, since theirs had died when they were young. Jo was Ellen's daughter and was much like the obnoxious little sister that Dean had never wanted—but loved anyway. Charlie was like another sister to Dean, although she got on better with Sammy. The two of them could often be found behind the bar while Sammy tended, geeking out over some comic book or video game. Dean could never quite keep up.

All of these reasons were why Dean went to work every day with a smile on his face. He and Sammy would drive to work together in Baby, the old Chevy Impala that their father had given to Dean shortly before he died, blasting classic rock and bickering like an old married couple. They'd arrive and go their separate ways, affectionately calling "Bitch!" and "Jerk!" over their shoulders at each other as Sam went to set up the bar and talk to Charlie, and Dean made his way into the kitchen, where Jo was usually waiting for him to tell him some story about a bad date she'd gone on or some movie she'd seen.

And so it went. Dean like his little routine, his little niche in the world. He spent his days and evenings cooking a bit of everything, although the most popular fare was burgers and fries. It had been his idea to introduce an extensive dessert menu—after all, there was nothing that Dean loved more than pie, and baking was one of his favorite hobbies. Fresh-baked desserts were a hot commodity from then on, and he loved trying new recipes to serve to their patrons.

Dean liked the fact that nothing ever really changed for him. As a kid he and Sammy and their father had moved around quite a bit, never in the same place for too long, and it was nice to have a place to call home and to see the same faces day in and day out. There was a comfort in the stability that his life provided him, and he didn't want a single thing to change.

That was, until one hot summer night in mid-August.

It was a slow night and Dean, having nothing to do as he'd just finished cooking the meal for the last couple that had come in, was standing in the doorway to the kitchen and leaning against the frame, chatting idly with Jo as she wrapped silverware in napkins with nimble fingers.

"So that's when I told him I wasn't gonna spend the night with him, because he was such a… Dean, are you listening to me?" Jo stopped and looked at Dean, a hand on her hip as she saw his eyes glaze over and his jaw drop just a fraction. She spun on her heel to see what had him gawking.

Dean was staring at the man who had just come in. He was a scruffy guy with tousled black hair and big blue eyes. He was chewing on his plush bottom lip as he stood nervously in the doorway. Jo turned back to Dean to smirk at him but he was already gone, having ducked back into the kitchen. She could see him through the still-swinging door, his cheeks flushed, and she chuckled to herself. This was going to be fun.

"Hey, darlin', welcome to the Roadhouse," Ellen's voice rang out, and Jo approached her mother.

"I've got it, Mama. I have an open table in my section." Jo grinned at the man. "Come on, I'll get you seated. Table for…?"

"One," the gravelly response came. "I'll be dining alone tonight, thank you."

Jo nodded and grabbed a menu, leading the man to his table. "What can I get you to drink?"

"I'll have a Coke, please." The man began to scan his menu.

"Sure thing. Have it right up." Instead of going back to the waitress's station, where she could have very easily poured the soda, Jo scurried over to the bar where Sam was cleaning glasses with a shit-eating grin on his face, Charlie sitting beside him. "Did you see Dean's face when that guy walked in?" she hissed, motioning for Sam to pour the soda. "We've got to do something!"

"Like what?" Sam countered, but Charlie's gears were already turning.

"Ask him for his phone number, duh." She raised an eyebrow. "I mean, just tell him that the cook thinks he's cute."

Jo wiggled her brows back at Charlie and took the soda that Sam had put on the bar, making her way back to the stranger's table to deliver it. "Here you go, then. Are you ready to order?"

The stranger shook his head and then looked up at her. "What do you recommend? I've never been here before but I've heard great things… and I'd like to have whatever you think is best."

Jo grinned. "Well, Dean makes the best bacon cheeseburgers in the state," she informed him casually. "So if you're into burgers, that's what I'd go for. 'Course we have other things, too. Salads, soups, other sandwiches… you tell me what you like and I'll tell you what to get."

"That bacon cheeseburger sounds perfect," he replied, smiling.

"I'll have that right up for you, sugar," Jo replied, turning to put the order in at the kitchen.

"Castiel."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Castiel." He held his menu out for Jo to take, and she took it from him.

"Well then, Castiel, I also recommend saving room for dessert. Dean's the best baker in the country." And with that, she left, pushing the door to the kitchen open with her shoulder.

"The hot piece of ass at table ten wants your famous bacon cheeseburger," she announced, making Dean's head shoot up. He stared daggers at her, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "Also, since I can clearly see that you want to hit that, I'm going to do you a solid."

"Wai- Jo! I never s-" his words were lost on her as she made her way back out of the kitchen, and his stomach began doing flips. Sure, he thought the guy was attractive, but he didn't know a single thing about him! He'd never even seen the guy before. How was Dean supposed to know whether the guy was a serial killer or a psychopath or something else even worse?

Dean's spatula clattered to the floor as his palms began to sweat and he retrieved it, washing it carefully in the sink before returning to the grill and starting on the attractive stranger's burger.

Jo made her way back to table ten, where Castiel was waiting patiently, and slid into the seat across from him.

"Er… I'm sorry, is there something wrong?" he asked, confusion clouding his blue eyes as Jo smirked at him.

"Not at all, Castiel. In fact, I'm only here to ask you a little favor. You see, our cook back there just about dislocated his jaw when you walked in that door. I'm surprised he didn't swoon so hard I had to pick him up off the floor. So here's the thing. He really, really wants your phone number, but he's busy back there cooking that burger of yours, so I figured I'd come on out and ask you on his behalf."

Castiel sat there for a moment with wide eyes, clearly shocked by his waitress's request, but he did distinctly remember the feeling of eyes on him when he'd walked in. He'd caught the emerald gaze of the cook for a split second before the man had disappeared, and he couldn't deny that he was curious. Besides, he hadn't been on a date in months.

With a little smile, he pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote his phone number on a napkin, sliding it across to Jo, who grinned and squealed in delight.

"Oh, you'll just adore Dean, I know it! He's the sweetest—and he's so funny, too, and he can cook. I mean, who doesn't love a man who can cook, am I right? I swear, if he played for the other team I'd have married him years ago. You won't regret this, Castiel. I promise." Jo bounced up from her seat and retreated to the kitchen.

As soon as Jo was gone, another body took her place in the seat across from him. It was the redheaded waitress that he'd seen across the restaurant, sitting at the bar with the bartender.

"Jo's not wrong, you know," she informed him matter-of-factly. "Dean's just about one of the best guys I've ever met. He's got a big heart and he almost never does anything for himself. Honestly, he hasn't been on a date in ages—oh, but don't tell him I told you that! He'd kill me!" Charlie laughed, reaching across to pat Castiel's hand. "Just go easy on him and you'll be fine. You'll like him, I know it."

In the kitchen, Jo was sidling up to Dean with a look of mischief in her eyes. "Who's the best sister in the whole wide world?" she asked, her voice a sing-song as she dangled the napkin in front of his face. Dean pulled the burger off the grill and slid it onto the bun, piling it high with bacon before snatching the napkin from her hand. "That's Castiel's phone number, Dean-o, and he wants to go on a date with you."

Dean flushed and his eyes went wide. "I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you," he growled, scooping Jo up into a hug and spinning her a few times before putting her down, grinning.

Jo laughed and picked up the burger, taking a fry from the plate and popping it into her mouth. Dean gave her a pointed look. "Hey, I want him to save room for dessert! I told him we have the best."

"No!" Dean shouted, and Jo gave him a look of confusion. He shook his head. "I meant, no, don't let him order dessert. I want to… I want to make him something special, I don't know. On the house."

Jo smirked. "You're such a sap," she said, and Dean scowled at her. "Fine, fine, I'll tell him! You'd better get started, though—you know nobody takes long to eat one of these bad boys." She sauntered out of the kitchen and Dean got to work.

She delivered the burger to Castiel. "Here you go, one bacon cheeseburger. Oh, and don't you worry about dessert—you're not allowed to order. Dean's making you something special, so I hear, so I would save some room." Jo winked and made her way over to the bar to sit next to Charlie on one of the stools. She wanted front-row seats to Dean's special delivery.

Dean made his way to the door while the desserts were being prepared, peeking out just a bit to watch Castiel's reaction to the food. For Dean, the best thing about cooking was watching someone taste it, and he didn't get much of that satisfaction in this job. Still, he couldn't stop himself from watching the other man take greedy bites of the cheeseburger, making soft sounds of pleasure as the flavors mingled on his tongue. Dean's chest puffed out proudly despite his fluttering heart as he made his way back into the kitchen to prepare the desserts.

When it was finished, Dean plated it prettily—a tasting tray of all of his finest works. Apple pie, cherry pie, cheesecake, tiramisu, and chocolate cake were all arranged nicely on a large plate, and all he could do was hope that his trembling hands didn't betray him and drop the display all over the floor before he had the chance to present it to Castiel. He could feel the folded napkin with the other man's phone number written on it in his pocket and it gave him the confidence to open that door and head for table ten, where he saw that Castiel had finished his cheeseburger and moved his plate to the side.

"I, uh," Dean began eloquently as he approached the table, those deep blue eyes locking on his and making his pulse quicken and his palms sweat. "Dean." He winced at his absolute failure at making himself seem like a normal person, but those blue eyes crinkled at the edges as Castiel laughed warmly.

"Castiel," he countered, gesturing at the seat across from him. Dean took it and set the plate between them, rubbing his sweaty hands on his thighs nervously.

"Dessert," he murmured, still staring into the other's eyes. "I, um. I made you a tasting plate. I really like baking and I was hoping you'd like the dessert and I wanted to do something special for you and-" he realized he was rambling and bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth as laughter danced in the blue eyes across from him.

"It looks delicious, Dean, thank you," Castiel replied, picking up a fork. "I'll never be able to eat it all, though. Won't you share it with me?"

Dean's eyes lit up a bit and he nodded, picking up a fork himself. Still, he hesitated. He wanted to watch Castiel take his first bite.

Castiel smiled and dug into the cherry pie, scooping a forkful into his mouth. As he did his eyes fluttered closed, a decidedly pleased sigh blowing through his nose, and the sound set Dean's skin tingling.

"Dean, this… this is the most amazing thing I've ever eaten," Castiel informed him, his voice gravelly and low, sending a shiver down Dean's spine.

"I-I'm glad you like it," he muttered, smiling sheepishly as he felt a flush creep over his cheeks once again. He cursed himself inwardly for seeming so shy and awkward, but Castiel only smiled. "I'm glad you, uh… gave me your phone number, too, Cas, I-"

"What did you call me?" Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes and furrowed brows, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"Um, Cas? I'm sorry—I know, it's Castiel, it just seemed… I don't know, easier? I shouldn't have…. I shouldn't have assumed, I'm sorry." Dean fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Not even ten minutes in and he was already fucking this up.

Cas chuckled. "No, Dean, it's fine. I'm just… not used to having a nickname, I suppose. My family and friends have always used my full name. It's nice, actually. I've always wanted a nickname."

Dean gave a little relieved smile and dug into the tiramisu. "Cas it is, then," he replied, relaxing a bit as the two of them ate the plate of desserts together.

They ate in near silence, each watching the other take forkfuls of cake and pie, soft moans and sighs of pleasure echoing between them as Dean's handiwork danced across their palates. Dean found himself wanting to learn all of Castiel's favorite foods so that he could cook them. They spoke a bit, learning things about each other—for instance, Dean learned that Castiel was new to town, come to replace the librarian that had just retired from the town's public library. They spoke of family, Dean of his pseudo-family and of Sam and Cas of his many brothers and sisters. They laughed together and ate together until all of the cake was gone and they were both leaning back in their chairs, hands on their aching stomachs.

"We shouldn't have eaten all of that food," Cas observed, chuckling. Dean laughed, too.

"I'm sorry. I was… trying to impress you, honestly." He blushed and averted his gaze, but Castiel brushed their calves together under the table.

"Well, you certainly did a good job of that. I'm glad that I gave Jo my phone number to give to you. I'm counting this as our first date, after all, and I'd like very much for there to be another."

Dean caught his gaze again and grinned. "Well then, if this is our first date, the meal's on the house. After all, I'm the one who asked you—I should pay."

Cas shook his head with a small smile. "Fine. You can pay for this one, but date number two is on me."

"I hope that I'm on you during date number two," Dean murmured under his breath, and Cas raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of guy do you take me for, Dean Winchester?" he asked, smirking coyly. "You'll have to wait until the third date for that. Do you think I'm easy or something?"

Dean laughed. "No, you're definitely not easy. No one's made me nervous like you have in a long time, Cas."

He smiled at that. "Can you spare a few minutes to walk me to my car?" he asked, standing from the table. Dean nodded, smiling, and tossing a look toward Jo, who nodded as well. Dean stood and held his hand out to Cas, who took it and twined their fingers together.

Together they walked out into the nearly empty parking lot and stopped at Castiel's car, with him standing between the car and Dean. He turned to look up at the slightly taller man, blue eyes meeting green once again.

"Thank you for tonight, Dean," he murmured softly, smiling. "I certainly wasn't expecting anything like this when I walked in—or even when I moved here, honestly. I haven't been on a date in months and I was just sort of content to figure things out here first, but… I'm glad I met you. So thank you."

"No, Cas, I should be thanking you," Dean replied hurriedly. "I haven't been on a date in ages, either, and I just… when you walked in, I couldn't help myself. I never would have had the guts to approach you if it wasn't for Jo, so I guess I'll have to thank her, too, and I heard Charlie over there talking to you, so I—mmph!"

Dean's rambling was cut off by the warm pressure of Castiel's mouth against his, long fingers curled into the fabric of his tee shirt to pull his mouth down the few inches that separated them. His eyes fluttered closed as his hands found the other's slender hips, gripping them tightly as he felt Castiel's tongue running along the seam of his lips, begging entrance that Dean was only too happy to give. He took a step forward as his mouth fell open, pinning Castiel against the cold metal of his car, eliciting a gasp from the smaller man. Castiel sank his teeth into Dean's lower lip in retaliation, earning him a groan and a tightened grip on his hips.

After a few moments Dean pulled away, resting his forehead against Castiel's. He smiled, panting. "Careful," he reprimanded, his voice husky, "Or we won't make it to date number three. Keep this up and I'll throw you in your backseat and fuck you stupid." Cas gasped and arched against Dean, who growled lowly and ran his thumbs over protruding hip bones. Apparently, his date was into dirty talk. That bit of knowledge would come in handy.

Dean leaned down and brushed a chaste kiss across the other's plush lips. "I have to go back to work," he said reluctantly. "But I'll call you tomorrow, Cas. I don't play games, and besides. I don't think I can wait three days to see you again." Castiel grinned, giddy, as Dean kissed him one more time and then opened the car door for him, making sure that he was safely inside before closing it and stepping away from the car.

Castiel couldn't help replaying that kiss in his head the entire ride home and even as he crawled into bed, and Jo and Charlie giggled between them when Dean whistled the whole time he was cleaning the kitchen.


I hope that you enjoyed this story! For now this will be a one-shot, but I may choose to continue it at a later point. Please review!