The Ring in the Pie

"Christina, will you marry me?"

"Oh yes, Jim, of course! A thousand times yes!"

Castiel watched as the two figures on the television box flung themselves at each other, smiling and crying and trying to eat each other's faces. Dean had told him that was what it looked like when two people kissed, but Castiel didn't understand it. He still thought they were trying to eat each other.

The scene changed to a chapel where the woman was striding down the aisle towards the man who was standing at the alter with the priest, and everyone was laughing and crying at the same time. He watched it impassively.

The door to the motel room creaked open with an accompanying jingle of keys. Something hit the floor with a thud. "Uh…hi, Cas."

"Hello, Sam." Castiel stood up from the couch and turned around, moving unconsciously to block the TV.

Sam looked around awkwardly as if searching for Dean, then looked back at the angel, slowly shutting the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Dean."

"He's not here."

"I know."

Sam stepped into the room and dropped his coat on a bed. He walked towards Castiel, trying to see around him. "Are you…watching TV?"

The angel stepped back so his beige trench coat covered the television. "No." A happy burst of laughter from behind contradicted him. Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as Castiel pretended nothing had happened and used his powers to short out the machine. "I must be going," he said shortly. "I have things to do."

"Aren't you waiting for Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly.

"I'll come back," Castiel replied and disappeared from the room with a rustle of cloth.

Castiel needed to find John Winchester. He knew that it was traditional to ask the father permission to marry. He didn't exactly know why – it seemed silly – but he wanted to do things correctly. He could find John fairly easily in Heaven, but he knew that the man was suspicious of just about everyone, especially angels, and it might be hard to convince him to listen first and attack later.

He appeared before a white two-story house that had light blazing cheerily into the night sky from the first floor windows. Castiel walked slowly up the sidewalk towards the door, trench coat flapping lightly around his legs. He could feel something tingling in his stomach, but he didn't know what it was. He didn't like it, he knew that.

All too soon, he was standing in front of the door. Yellow light from behind the frosted glass window danced across his face like an accusing spotlight, and he could hear happy, laughing voices coming from inside. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should just go.

But he lifted his fist and knocked anyways, three steady taps.

"Coming!" called a deep voice, and then there were footsteps pounding down the hall. The floors are wooden, Castiel thought randomly, listening to the quick, hollow thuds. He had no idea what he was going to say when the door opened. He really should just 'zap out of there' as Dean always put it.

But it was too late. The front door swung open to reveal John Winchester's happy, shaved face. The man's expression immediately darkened when he didn't recognize the stranger at his doorstep. Castiel decided it would be best to just plow forward. "Hello, my name is Castiel, and I'm here to talk to you about…"

He found himself staring down the wrong end of a double-barreled shotgun. "Please don't."

John pulled both triggers. It didn't hurt, but the impact flung Castiel off the stairs and half way down the sidewalk. He somersaulted over the cement twice before finally managing to get his feet under him and skid to a halt. A sharp crack echoed through the air as John reloaded and re-cocked the shotgun. Castiel stayed where he was, half bent over, hands held out in front of him.

"Get off of my property, you angel son of a bitch," John growled, raising the shotgun so it was pointed at the stranger's head.

Like father, like son, Castiel thought sourly. He straightened slowly, keeping his eyes locked on John's face. "I need to talk to you about your son."

The barrel of the gun dipped slightly. "My son? What about him?"

"Dad!?" a high-pitched voice called from within the house. John turned swiftly, gun dipping to hide by his side.

"Not now, son. Stay inside," he ordered, shooting Castiel a quick look.

But a young boy – no more than five or six – with dark blonde hair and innocent green eyes appeared in the door frame. He was wearing a pair of spaceship pajamas and holding a tall glass of milk. There was pie on his face. "Mommy wants to know what's going on."

"Not now, son," John repeated, trying to push the boy back inside the house.

Castiel realized that he was looking at a very young Dean. He stared at the boy in wonder. He'd never known, never seen what Dean had been like as a child. Dean never talked about it. Child Dean was happy, innocent, not yet broken by the challenges he'd face in life. Castiel felt a small smile cross his face. He wanted Dean to be happy like that again.

"Mr. Winchester," he said, striding up the sidewalk towards the man and his boy. "I'm not here to hurt you or your family. I know your sons, Dean and Sam," John pushed child Dean behind him, "and I can tell you they're quite well."

"Why should I believe you?" John interrupted. "You're one of them."

"I pulled Dean out of Hell," Castiel snapped. "I rebelled against Heaven for them, and I'm risking my life right now to talk to you, so I suggest you lower the gun and show a little respect."

John stared at the angel suspiciously but slowly lowered the weapon. He turned to child Dean and bent down to whisper in his ear. The boy nodded, smiling, and scampered back inside. John stood up and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. "I'm listening."

Now what, Castiel wondered. He had the man's attention, but he didn't know what to say. "I'm an angel," he began slowly. "Human emotions and the 'social norm' are hard for us."

"Why are you telling me this?" John asked. He came down the steps and part of the sidewalk until he was only five feet away.

Castiel looked down at his feet, rolling his neck slightly. "I think I'm in love with your eldest son."

John stood there in stunned silence. He blinked once, then twice, and let the gun drop completely. He stared at Castiel, trying to come up with something to say but finding his brain empty. "…That wasn't what I was expecting."

"We share a profound bond," Castiel continued. John raised an eyebrow, and he kicked himself mentally. That hadn't been a good thing to say. "That's not what I meant," he stammered. "I pulled him from Hell so it's easier for him to contact me, that's all."

"I still don't understand why you're telling me this," John repeated slowly.

"Because human culture says that the best way to express this kind of affection is through marriage, and I know that it is traditional to ask the father's permission."

"So let me get this straight," the man said, taking a step or two forward. "You came to Heaven and found me just to ask my permission to marry my son?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"Well, that's different."

Castiel waited for him to continue, but John was silent. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Definitely a bad idea to come here. He opened his mouth to apologize for disturbing the man and prepared to leave.

"Does he love you back?"

John's expression hadn't changed much, but he was staring at Castiel with a hard intensity.

Castiel froze uncertainly, unsure. He thought so, but he wasn't much of a people reader, so he didn't really know. He thought so. He hoped so. But…what if he was wrong? What if Dean didn't reciprocate his feelings, and he just ended up exposing himself and making himself look like a fool?

"I…I hope so," he answered, his normally steady voice shaking.

John laughed, walked over, and clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "You've got it bad, don't you, son?"

Castiel stared at his feet.

John smiled him with a faintly fatherly look in his eyes. "Look, son, I don't know what things are like down there or what my boys are up to or what they're feeling. But I can tell you that sometimes you just have to go for things. If this is what you want, and you think it might make Dean happy, then I say go for it."

Castiel looked up into the man's honest face. "So you're giving me permission?"

"With all my heart, son."

Castiel nodded once, solemnly. "Thank you." He prepared to leave, but John's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"There's just one more important thing you've got to think about," he said.

"What's that?"

"How are you going to ask him?"

Castiel let go of the energy he was going to use to transport out of Heaven and back to Earth. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you can't just hand over a ring and say marry me," John explained in a bit of a 'duh' voice. "You have to do something special."

"Like what?"

"What does Dean like?"

Castiel paused, his mind instantly flashing over every moment he had ever spent with Dean and everything he knew about the man. "He likes his car. And he likes pie and hunting."

John laughed a little, smiling. "He hasn't changed. Tell you what, make him a pie and put the ring inside. Then give it to him."

"I don't know how to cook."

John rolled his eyes. "Then ask someone else to do it." He looked at Castiel suddenly, really looked at him. "Sorry for shooting you earlier. You're not so bad."

"Thank you," Castiel said. Was that the right response? "I should be going."

"Right. Of course. Good luck." John stepped back, and Castiel turned around. "Wait," Dean's father called suddenly, the instant before Castiel disappeared. When the angel turned to face him again, John was holding out a thick golden ring.

"What?"

"Take this," John said, practically ordering him to. "It's the ring Dean's mother gave to me when we got married. I want you to give it to him."

Castiel reached out slowly and took the ring from John's fingers. It was heavy and cold in his hand. He closed his fist around it, then tucked it in his pocket. He nodded in thanks and disappeared.

Castiel reappeared in the kitchen of a mom-and-pop bakery, scaring the living daylights out of the gray-haired woman who was working there. "I need you to make me a pie." He held out the ring. "And I need you to put this in it."

An hour or so later, the woman handed him a large, piping hot strawberry-rhubarb pie. Castiel took it, thanked her, and disappeared again. The old woman promptly fainted.

The motel room was empty when Castiel appeared in it, but the Winchesters' stuff was still strewn across the beds, so he knew they hadn't left yet. He got a plate and a knife out of the cupboards, and then set everything on the white plastic table. He cut a piece of the pie, hoping the ring was in it, and sat down to wait.

He didn't have to wait long. Two hours later, the motel door opened, and Dean and Sam staggered through, shedding guns and coats. Dean stopped in the center of the room when he saw Castiel, jacket halfway off. "Cas. Hey."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied stiffly. He stood up from the uncomfortable chair and awkwardly clasped his hands behind his back.

Dean dropped his jacket to the floor. "What are you doing here? And why do I smell pie?"

"Because I brought you pie. Would you like a piece?" He gestured at the table and the prepared piece of pie.

Dean pursed his lips and shrugged. "I never say no to pie." He flopped down at the table and pulled the plate and fork towards him while Sam stared at Castiel curiously.

Dean dug in happily and chowed through the slice in less than ten seconds. Castiel's heart dropped when the ring didn't appear. But Dean cut a second piece, and the angel saw a flash of gold that was swiftly swallowed by purple goop when Dean transferred the pie to his plate. He dug in again, nodding and making satisfied noises. Three bites in, though, he dropped the fork with a clatter as his hands flew to his throat. He gagged, eyes bulging, and clutched at his neck, throwing himself backwards out of the chair and almost falling over.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, and he leapt forward, grabbing his brother around the waist and quickly giving him the Heimlich maneuver. Castiel stood there in shock. That wasn't supposed to happen.

The ring flew out of Dean's mouth and across the room, hitting the wall with a ping. Sam released him, and he dropped his hands to his knees, gasping. "What the hell was that?"

"A ring." Castiel walked over and picked it up for an excuse to look away from Dean.

"What the hell was a ring doing in my pie?!"

"You weren't supposed to eat it."

Sam looked at the back of Castiel's head and then over at the dark TV. Suddenly, he burst into laughter, shaking his head. "Oh my God, Cas. Did you just try to propose to Dean?"

For the first time, Castiel felt blood rush to his face in embarrassment as Dean stared at him in shock. "Cas? Is this true?"

Castiel sighed, his hands flapping uselessly at his sides as he searched for a way to explain. "Yes."

"So you thought me choking on the ring would be a good way to ask?"

"You weren't supposed to eat it," Castiel repeated. "Your father suggested it. I went to him to ask for permission, and he told me to do something special." He looked down at the floor, ring still clasped in his hands. It was warm.

"Our father's dead," Sam pointed out.

"I went and found him in Heaven."

"Isn't that really dangerous for you right now?"

"Yes," Castiel answered.

Dean walked towards the angel, throat still hurting from his debacle with the ring. "Cas, look at me."

But Castiel turned away, unable to face him. "I should go."

"Look at me, Cas," Dean ordered forcefully. Castiel slowly looked up and into his face, feeling something grow inside him when he saw that Dean's face didn't hold any scorn or distaste. Dean smiled at him and held out his hand. "Give me the ring."