A/N: Don't worry, if you're waiting for some background on Castiel and Cambodia...this is the lead-up chapter to that. =) Reviews are always welcome. Let me know where you see the story going! 3
By the time Dean is polishing off his second piece of heavenly cherry pie, the festivities at the Milton house seem to be dying down. As the family begins to feel the weight in their full bellies, eyes become heavy and yawning is dangerously contagious.
Still sitting on the deck, Mary smiles politely and surveys her children around her. "Well, I think I'm going to call the night for myself." She grins towards Anna and Castiel. "Twin River Trail tomorrow morning."
Abraham stands as his wife pushes her chair from the table. The children follow suit. Slowly moving around to join his wife, Dean truly notices how he comports himself. Straight backed, proper, and, in a way, genuinely intimidating.
Even Gabriel and Balthazar stand patiently to bid good-bye to their parents, though their quiet whispering sounds rather provocative. Dean is the last to say his good-byes to Castiel's parents. Abraham extends a hand towards Dean and he can tell that Castiel's father is truly trying to conceal something from his expression.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Dean." He says as he firmly grasps Dean's hand and shakes it definitively. The man's eyes are the exact same hue as Castiel's, and it's more than slightly unsettling for Dean for some reason.
"Thanks for having me," Dean replies, purposefully maintaining eye-contact with the Milton patriarch who nods with...approval?
Mary pulls Dean into a tight embrace. "You're always welcome in our home." She says warmly as she dis-engages from the hug. Her expression is so genuine that Dean feels his heart wrench at the fact that this lovely, accepting woman shares her name with his own mother.
"Thank you," Dean replies, and a true smile spreads across his face. Castiel's feels something stir within him as he watches his mother interact with Dean. She has always been a life-line for him, and he has always missed her.
As Dean descends the steps from the kitchen door behind Castiel, the night, heavy with moisture, is decidedly cooler than it has been for the past few days as the summer draws to a close. Dean isn't very fond of Fall. It's always a bitter-sweet time, holidays, seeing Sam.
Being alone.
Castiel hugs his siblings before they enter their respective cars and depart. Dean notices that Michael and Raphael both shake Castiel's hand rather than embracing him.
The drive back is taken mostly in companionable silence. Dean rolls down the windows and tunes the Impala's radio to the local classic rock station rather than letting his Metallica tape play again. Castiel is staring out into the blackness of the night as Dean drives.
"Thanks for inviting me," Dean breaks the silence without taking his eyes from the road before him. He can feel Castiel's gaze on him as he sees him turn his head out of his peripheral vision, but he doesn't feel uncomfortable though Castiel's inquisitive expression is difficult to read.
Surveying Dean, Castiel smiles when he sees the other man stealing glimpses at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to seem less interested. "Well, after almost taking your head off with my constant distraction..." Castiel trails off with an impish grin, and he sees the side of Dean's lips twitch upward in amusement.
As Dean turns onto the side-road next to the shop, he laughs good-heartedly. "I guess you'll just have to have a really awesome pie ready for me tomorrow." He finally makes eye contact with Castiel's piercing, blue chasms which light up when his face softens. He looks down at his feet.
"I think I could manage that," Castiel manages and Dean moves to re-enter the Impala.
As Castiel mounts the stairs to his empty apartment, he wishes he'd had the courage to suggest Dean come upstairs for a beer. The dark apartment reminds him of his quiet, secret solitude, and after spending the night with his family and Dean, it's disheartening, and Castiel realises that he feels unfulfilled.
Meanwhile, after several whiskeys, Dean finally falls asleep, unable to erase the image of Castiel's smile from the back of his eyelids.
Castiel finds that he cannot sleep past about six, even as he lays in his bed, willing his eyes to become heavy and succumb to a deep slumber once more, he feels completely awake. Groaning, he rolls over and swings his legs over the side of the bed, placing his bare-feet on the cool wood floor. There is a slight draft in the older apartment that Castiel has been living in for almost five years, and his body shivers against the cold.
The sun is still hidden, though the sky is slowly turning a lighter pastel indigo, anticipating the arrival of sunrise. Castiel stares out his window on the empty streets below his apartment as he pulls on his running clothes and quickly laces his shoes, and he certainly was NOT thinking of Dean.
The evening run with Anna was set to be ten miles, but Castiel's training calls for fifteen miles on Saturday, so as he bounds down the stairs and the heavy air hits him like a brick wall, he takes a deep breath and centers himself before taking off down the side-street next to the shop to the back road that runs parallel to Main Street. It's packed dirt and when Castiel runs on this road, he almost forgets where he is.
He can almost imagine that he is somewhere else.
Relaxing into his pace, Castiel gets lost in the sound of his feet striking the dusty road before him, in perfect harmony with the sound of his steady breathing. As much as Castiel loves to sleep, he loves to run even more. He started running when he was in Cambodia; exploring the jungle around his parent's compound, when he was running, it was almost the only time he had for himself. After he returned to the States, he was recruited to run cross country, but he found that racing held nothing for him, it is the peaceful solitude that he loves about running.
Cambodia. It has all been coming back to him since the moment he saw Dean walking out of his house two days earlier, and, to be completely honest, he's not entirely sure how he feels about it and what, if anything, he should do. If he and Dean continue their...friendship, he knows that Dean is going to want to know. He just hopes that it doesn't scare him away.
Castiel catches himself becoming caught up in his thoughts and he wills his brain to refocus on the sound of his feet and the pace of his breathing. The point of running is to get out of his head, focus on the fight, the pain, the complete and utter release he experiences when pushing his body to the limit.
It's almost painful for Castiel to turn off the dirt road and loop back to Main Street, he is itching to just run the entire fifteen miles this morning, but he has to open the shop eventually, and he has a pie to make.
The lights are still off when Castiel passes Dean's house, and he is simultaneously disappointed and relieved, but he still increases his pace to just below his threshold. For some reason, terrified that Dean will spot him again, he tries to tell himself that normal people don't wake up at six a.m. on Saturdays. Plus, Dean said he would be coming into the shop anyway.
When Castiel rounds the corner just before the shop, he increases his pace once more. At his threshold, he sprints the last few meters of his run. Placing his hands on his hips, he leans his head back and the rising morning sun warms his face as he takes in massive lungfuls of air. As is his routine, he takes the stairs two at a time, looking forward to his shower, and trying to decide which pie he is going to make for Dean.
It comes to him while he is washing his hair. The perfect pie for Dean. It's Castiel's signature Four Berry Pie. With blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and boysenberries, he's been told it is the perfect mixture of sweet and sour, with warm tones of liqueur and cinnamon mixing perfectly with the light aftertaste of the mint in the filling paired with a slightly sweeter crust than normal. It's been a while since he last made it, and he can't help but feel that this is a special occasion.
At this point, opening the bakery and preparing for the day ahead is second nature to Castiel, requiring little to no conscious attention to the tasks at hand. As much as he wants to start in on Dean's pie, he knows that Saturday is the day that most people in town come and purchase their bread, so he quickly puts together a large quantity of sourdough in one of his industrial size bowls and places a towel over it, allowing the yeast to cause the dough to rise.
Humming to himself, Castiel looks towards the front of the store, it is still not eight o'clock, and he is in no hurry to open the shop early. The bright, morning sun casts shadows on the walls of the bakery and illuminates the small reading nook in the back corner which is a popular spot for students looking for a quiet place to study.
As the bread dough is rising, Castiel decides that since he is going all out with the Four Berry Pie, he might as well whip up a few of his other most popular items, it may not be Thursday, but Saturday is a fine day itself.
One of Castiel's favourite recipes is his pistachio muffins, which are an unusually pleasing light green colour with bits of chopped pistachios in the batter itself. Cracking eggs and pouring ingredients together, Castiel feels his head moving in time with his mixing as he whistles a nameless tune and he smiles more genuinely than he has in a long while.
Glancing at the clock above the entrance to the shop, Castiel notes that it is a quarter to eight, and he pushes aside the bowl of mint-green muffin batter and pulls the towel-covered bowl of dough towards him. The texture of the dough is pleasing as Castiel's long, deft fingers knead quickly, wanting to get the first loaves into the oven before he opens the bakery.
Having set his oven to pre-heat the moment he entered the shop that morning, he places each of the individual loaves of sourdough bread, the most popular variant, into the blazing oven. He returns to his muffin batter and separates the mixture into the tins he has already placed papers into and those find their way to the oven not long after the loaves of bread.
After placing the first batch of his creations in the oven, Castiel deems it time to open the shop, and he slowly walks around the counter to unlock the dead-bolt and turn the 'Closed' sign to 'Open'.
For normal people, Saturday is one of the best days of the week, but when the sun's rays peak through the haphazardly drawn curtains in Dean's bedroom, all he does is squint his eyes and turn over with a grunt of disapproval.
What the hell is he supposed to do on a Saturday?
His eyes flutter closed once more and he pulls his blankets to cover his face, not in any hurry to get up and be reminded that he is alone and has absolutely nothing to do on a Saturday. But as he teeters between sleep and consciousness, in that foggy haze, he suddenly has a moment of clarity. A pair of crystal blue eyes appear in his mind's eye, and he quickly turns over, now completely awake, and looks at the large red numbers indicating the time on his alarm clock.
9:15
Throwing the covers off his body, his skin erupts into gooseflesh as he feels the cool air of his house rush against his bare chest. When Dean places his feet on the floor next to his bed, he has to kick away his clothes from the day before which he'd left lying on the ground next to his bed as he collapsed into a whiskey-induced sleep.
There is a dull ache sitting squarely behind Dean's eyes and while still sitting on the edge of his bed, he pushes his thumbs into his closed eyes until he sees explosions of neon greens and yellows on the back of his eyelids. Taking a deep breath, he rises to a standing position and rubs his right knee which twinges in protest to the movement.
But despite the pain from his abused body, Dean still has a small smile on his face as he remembers that he does indeed have plans for this Saturday, and those plans include Castiel and pie.
Dean flicks on the small radio sitting on the back of his toilet as he turns on the tap for the hot water and begins running the shower until he sees steam beginning to accumulate on the bathroom mirror. The classic rock station that the radio is tuned to permanently starts playing AC/DC just as Dean steps underneath the scalding water.
As he sings along with Back in Black, washing his hair, his mind keeps wandering to the soft-spoken, slightly strange Castiel, who Dean is still unable to fully understand. His family stuck with Dean, though. The way Mary hugged him so tightly, and even Abraham's final look of tempered approval lift Dean's spirits for some reason that he is unable to pinpoint.
But most of all, Dean is trying not to think about those sideways glances, those moments by the pond, and just how much his stomach had somersaulted as he spent time alone with Castiel, and just how much he really wants to get to know this fascinating baker.
After stepping out of the shower and toweling off, it takes Dean all of five minutes to throw on a random shirt with a pair of his sturdy blue jeans and grab the keys to the Impala. He's out the door and on his way to the bakery by ten.
Though he knows it is not possible, the drive simultaneously flies by and also slips by at a glacial pace. It's as if Dean isn't sure what to expect, or how he is supposed to act. He has to mentally slap and remind himself that he is simply going to the bakery. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing weird about it at all.
Except for the fact that they don't sell microwave dinners at a bakery, and if Dean's kitchen is any indication, his going to a bakery is actually probably the most out of character, strangest thing he's ever done. He laughs to himself as he drums his fingers on the Impala's steering wheel and he wonders what exactly HAD compelled him to walk up to Castiel's Coveted Cakes & Pies on Thursday.
As the roar of the engine cuts off and Dean sits on the side-road next to the bakery, he honestly has no idea.
The bell above the door announces Dean's arrival and a few of the people sitting at tables around the shop look up from their respective activities to survey the new arrival. Dean smiles nervously and looks to the counter expectantly.
Oh God, Dean thinks to himself when he sees, not Castiel, but Gabriel manning the register with a lurid smirk on his face no doubt due to Dean's entrance. For a moment, Dean contemplates turning around and just walking out. It's not that he doesn't want to deal with Gabriel, but the prospect of seeing Castiel and the pie he had promised Dean were really the only reason that Dean wasn't still intently studying the back of his eye-lids at this very moment.
"Dean Winchester!" Gabriel exclaims with an excited clap of his hands before Dean is able to duck out of the shop. Rounding the counter, Gabriel pulls Dean into a slightly suggestive embrace. "How good to see you again." Dean is surprised that Gabriel doesn't have diabetes from the sugar sweet look he is trying to pull over on him.
"Hi Gabriel," Dean says while extricating himself from Gabriel's overzealous display of affection. His eyes dance with possibility as he looks Dean up and down, obviously contemplating his next move.
Dean shoots a glance over Gabriel's shoulder towards the counter, willing Castiel to appear. Gabriel huffs and rolls his eyes when he notices, "Don't get your panties all in a wad," He says, pulling the wrapper off a lollipop and placing it into his mouth in a suggestive manner. "He's in the back." Dean hopes the relaxation he feels flood through his body is not visible, but Gabe rolls his eyes and turns to return to the magazine he had been reading at the counter.
"Ca-as!" Gabe calls Castiel's nick-name as if it were two separate syllables. When he gets no response within the first five seconds, he calls again, "Caaaaaaaaaaaaaas!"
"What, Gabe!?" Castiel's head pops around the corner of the entrance-way to the kitchen, a peeved expression matching the annoyed tone his voice hints at.
"Your friend is here," The way Gabe says the word friend makes Dean's stomach do that funny somersault thing again.
When Castiel's eyes notice Dean standing behind his brother, he immediately feels his stomach knot and a flush spread across his cheeks, something that does not go unnoticed by Dean. Castiel gives his brother a small shove as he makes his way towards the counter. Gabe's expression is absolutely scandalized as he notices the flour residue that Castiel's hands left on his dark shirt.
"You came," Castiel says, flashing one of those smiles that plagued Dean's dreams all night.
"Well, I've never been one to say no to pie," Dean says brightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Unexpectedly, Gabriel laughs without looking up from the gossip rag he is reading intently. "This is the worst flirting I've ever seen," He says with a sigh.
The other patrons of the bakery are glancing towards the commotion at the front counter, as Castiel once again punches his brother's arm. "How about you go and get started on a batch of blueberry muffins," Castiel prompts, his expression a warning to Gabriel.
Raising his hands in surrender, "Fine," Gabriel says as he turns from the counter and enters the kitchen. He winks at Dean before disappearing around the corner.
Castiel had moved toward the counter on the wall behind the register, and Dean watches as he opens a small convection oven and pulls out a pristine pie.
Approaching the pastry case, Dean's eyes are wide as an indescribable smell wafts from the pie to his nose. He closes his eyes and he can almost taste the pie already.
"My Four Berry Pie," Castiel says as he begins to cut a slice. "I kept it in the oven so it would be warm when you got here."
Dean doesn't even know what to say.