Written for this post on tumblr: "Do you think he makes pie? I bet he makes a mean pie." And at first it's just an innocent crush. The guy does make great food after all, and sometimes comes out to talk to customers and sometimes gets this small smile he tries to hide when someone complements his cooking. Dean knows because he watches him joke with Jo, Dean's friend on the waiting staff...(cut the rest to keep from spoiling it)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything related to it. FYI: Un-beta'ed.

"Yeah yeah, I know. I know, Bobby. Yeah, I'll work the late shift tomorrow night if I can get someone to cover for me this afternoon," Dean said, sighing into the phone as he shrugged apologetically at Jo. She nodded in understanding and motioned that she'd be back, strolling off to take an order from the truck driver who had plunked himself down at the diner bar.

"Benny said he'll work this afternoon," Bobby's voice confirmed over the phone receiver. "He's got a Harley to finish an engine job on."

"Good, okay then. See ya tomorrow," Dean snapped his phone shut. He stretched, pushing his feet out under the booth. His stomach growled at him, a reminder that it was dinner time and he hadn't had anything to eat since early that morning. As if on cue, Jo returned to his table.

"Same ol' same ol'?" She asked, resting her hip on the table.

"Please," Dean said, smiling. He watched her take the slip of paper to the back of the diner, handing it to the dark haired man in the back. Jo exchanged words with him, and he looked up to meet Dean's eyes and smiled subtly. Dean quickly looked away, not expecting to be caught staring. The cook was just an interesting guy, he told himself. When Dean looked back up, he was gone. Dean reminded himself the man did work at the diner and had a job to do, he wasn't just there to chat.

Busying himself with the newspaper and tapping his foot to the music playing in the background, Dean managed to ignore the rumbling protests from his stomach-sort of. The savory smell of cooking food didn't help much. Finally, Jo was bringing his food over and sliding into the booth opposite him.

"Thanks," he managed to squeeze out between large mouthfuls of a diner special, the urban burger. Dean had still yet to figure out exactly how many different meats and condiments the burger consisted of, but it was good, so he didn't question it.

"Long day?" Jo asked, picking at the fries on his plate. Dean shrugged, sipping at his coke.

"We've had a crapload of new people coming in since we bought the garage," he admitted. "Some of them want the weirdest junk on their bikes."

"Weird as in, detailed, or weird as in..weird?" Jo asked.

"Think Dave Evans meets Gene Simmons, but on bikes."

"So, classic?" Jo teased.

"Hey, the music's classic. Can't get much better. The style- to each their own," Dean said, raising his eyebrows and stuffing more burger in his mouth. Jo laughed, grabbing another fry off his plate.

"How's things going here?"

"Oh, ya know," she shrugged. "Not much changes, but it's definitely been a Monday," she said. "A lot of busy people who know what they want and when they want it. But it's all good. Cas has been working longer hours," she said. Dean followed her eyes to the cook across the diner, watching the cook make his way out of the kitchen.

An elderly couple sat in a corner booth by the window. Even a so-called tough-guy like Dean had to admit they were a sight to see. The man had large horn-rimmed glasses and smoked a long pipe. Both he and his wife's jumpers were made in the same faded brown material. Castiel stopped at their table, greeting the couple and setting down the matching plates. Dean could just hear the conversation over the regular hubbub.

"Oh, look at this. Steve, listen to me," the woman said, eagerly patting her husband on the wrist. The old man dropped his paper, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"What?" he snapped.

"Look what Castiel has made us. Isn't he a dear?" the woman affectionately patted the cook on the arm. "It's your favorite, too. Blueberry, Steve." Delicately, she cut the pie and took a small bite. Dean watched in amusement as she closed her eyes and pressed a hand over her heart. A little dramatic, Dean thought. But then again, it was pie. He could sympathize. "Oh dear. Cas, this is superb," she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, "as always." The cook smiled shyly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Thank you, Mrs. Schmitt!" he said.

"Oh, don't thank me. We should be thanking you," she said, patting him on the arm for what had to be the hundredth time. Cas made his way back to the kitchen, a contented smile on his face.

"That must be one mean pie. Or at least she thinks so," Dean smiled, motioning at the older couple.

"He's so good with people," she said. "He can be awkward sometimes, and quiet, but that's not bad," she said. "It helps having another regular here." Glancing at the clock, she sighed and stood up, grabbing Dean's now clean plate. "Back to work I go."

Pulling a bill from his wallet, Dean dropped it on the table and started to rise.

"Hey, don't go yet," Jo threw over her shoulder.

Dean shrugged and leaned back into the booth, closing his eyes and tapping his foot to the chorus of Build Me Up, Buttercup playing in the background.

"Here you go."

Dean sat up. A slice of pie sat on the table in front of him, freshly cut. Jo smiled. "On the house."

"This is why we're best friends," he laughed. Jo returned the chuckle and made her way to the kitchen. As Dean bit into the apple pie, he could suddenly understand why Mrs. Schmitt was so enthusiastic about the pie. It was really good-and Dean had high standards for his pie. He'd go as far to say it was one of the best pieces of pie he'd had in a long time. Finishing it off quickly, he washed it down with a sip of coke and sighed.

Man. I love pie.

Dean finally stood, making his way slowly out of the diner. He cast his eyes around the kitchen area to try and catch Jo to say good-bye. Instead of his blond friend, the cook he had been watching minutes ago was at the window. He happened to look up at the same time as Dean passed, and threw a wave at Dean as he left. Dean faltered, going to return it, but he wasn't fast enough and Castiel was turning away, laughing and going to help Jo as she struggled through the kitchen carrying a mountain of dishes.

On the way back to his little apartment, listening to one of his old CDs for the billionth time, Dean found himself thinking about the bashful cook and his apple pie. He had to agree with Jo-ever since Castiel had started working at the diner a couple of months ago, the food was better and customers loved Castiel. Dean could see why- the cook was a good guy, definitely a people person. Dean couldn't imagine him having a mean bone in his body. Plus he made a hell of an apple pie. Dean's stomach mumbling in contentment spoke for itself.

Dean was intrigued by the quiet cook. He saw a lot of different kinds of people, working at the bike shop and as a kid with his dad at a hunting hotspot in Kansas, but he wasn't sure that he had ever seen someone like Cas. Maybe, Dean hoped, he would be able to find out during his almost daily visits to the little town diner, to find out what else Castiel was good at other than making people happy and being an excellent cook.

Mission objective: Meet and learn who the diner's cook really is. Now who, but what. Dean smirked to himself as he opened the door to his apartment, made his way to the fridge to grab a beer and settled down on the couch with the television remote.

Dean had to admit the only reason he hadn't thrown a wrench at someone in the shop the next afternoon- or at least thrown something in general- was because he wanted to just get through with work. A paint job had gone uncharacteristically wrong that afternoon, and they only noticed the problem once it was too late and they had almost finished.

"Dammit," Bobby said, inspecting the job. "That's about as beautiful as death warmed over," he grimaced. Dean was grateful that Bobby was a decent boss and wouldn't be all over their asses about a screw up like this.

"It was definitely a dumb thing to do, starting out like that…" Benny said, running a hand nervously through his hair.

"That's the understatement of the century," Bobby retorted, although his tone showed his sympathy. Sympathy or not, they'd still have to fix it. "All I can tell you is to get it finished." Dean and Bobby had exchanged a pitiful look before setting to work again, from the beginning.

"Get it finished," translated to "Fix what you screwed over before the customer needs his bike back." So it was no surprise when Benny and Dean ended up working past store hours, much later into the night than either had planned. Finally they were finished, locking the store behind them on the way out. Dean looked at his watch. It was eleven fifteen-so forty-five short minutes to get to the diner and grab a bite. Dean hurried the impala over the speed limit on the way there.

Jo looked up as the diner bell rang, Dean striding into the empty diner.

"Heya," she said, glancing up briefly from wiping down the counter. "Late night," she commented. He grunted in reply, not keen to explain why he clocked extra hours. The diner was quiet, even for this late at night. Jo saw his questioning look. "Just me," she said. "I was about to close up. You just missed Cas on his way out," she said.

Dean's shoulders dropped slightly, but he straightened up before Jo took notice. Here he was acting like a little school girl. He shrugged.

"Ahh, it's been a long day. I was just gonna grab a sandwich to go." Jo disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a wrapped sandwich. "There ya are," she said.

"Thanks," he said, trading her money for the sandwich. She slid it into the cash register and started locking up.

"Say, haven't seen Sam in a while. Ash was asking about him the other day," she said. Ash was Jo's cousin-or at least, Dean thought so. Ash was a strange guy. A good one, though.

"He's been working with a professor at a college up north," he said. "Working on getting some more fluff for his resume," he said, a smile playing across his face. He was proud of Sammy, going after it and making a life for himself. Law school was good for Sam, and Dean had no doubt his little brother would be one of the best lawyers around one day.

"Sam, all grown up. Sometimes I forget I'm older than him," Jo laughed.

Dean grabbed his sandwich, slowly making his way to the door. "You're telling me! He makes me feel old." Jo laughed. "See ya," he waved over his shoulder.

"See ya!"

Dean finished his sandwich quickly after he got back to his apartment, taking an ibuprofen for the headache that was getting steadily worse, and headed to bed.

Dean had grand plans to sleep in and eat cold pizza for breakfast the next day, until he got a call from Adam, another coworker from the shop.

"Listen, I know it's short notice, but I really need you to cover for me. It's not a long shift, later tonight for a few hours," Adam said, pleading across the phone receiver. Dean glanced at the clock, throwing an arm over his face and rolling into the pillow.

"Fine," he said.

"Thanks, man. I owe you big time," Adam said, relief clear in his voice. Dean scoffed.

"Hell yea you do," he said.

"Six thirty to nine thirty tonight," Adam said. "Thanks again bro."

Dean set his phone on the stand beside his bed, pulling the covers back over his head. He had a feeling this was just going to be a long week. But at least he still had diner trips to look forward to.

(AN: Okay so it's a work in progress. I don't expect it to be terribly long, and I'm already working on the second chapter. I really hope y'all enjoy it! Leave me a review. I literally feed off of reports/critics. So please, R&R :)