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“So,” Dean begins as he leans on the checkout counter to look at Castiel. “Any Valentine’s Day plans this weekend?”
As usual when his most frequent customer talks to him, Castiel ducks his head to hide his blush and tries his best not to sound flustered. “Ummm, no. Nothing special planned.”
“Any regular plans?”
“Nope.” Castiel laughs awkwardly, his hands shaking as he rings up Dean’s coffee and donut. It’s the same every night. 3 a.m., Dean in his police uniform, wrapping up another patrol shift, stopping at the gas station by his house – the one Castiel happens to work at – buying coffee and donuts. Castiel teases him relentlessly about the whole ‘cop with a coffee and donut’ cliché. It never fails to make Dean smile.
Castiel really likes making Dean smile.
It’s been two years of Castiel working this shift and Dean working his, the two of them seeing each other at least three or four times a week. At first it was Castiel fumbling and stuttering as he tried to ring up the officer with the gorgeous smile and witty remarks, but thankfully Dean’s insistence on small talk has loosened Castiel up.
A bit.
As loose as you can be when you’re head over heels in love with a man ten times out of your league that likes to flirt with anyone that moves.
“Do you have any plans?” Castiel asks politely as he waits for Dean to fish out his money.
“I don’t.” Dean leans further over the counter and Castiel finally looks up at him. He realizes that Dean isn’t trying to get his money. In fact, he doesn’t seem at all concerned about his coffee and donut at the moment. His eyes are locked on Castiel. “You don’t work?”
“Surprisingly I do not.”
“Great. Neither do I.” Dean grins. “Listen, this is gonna sound crazy but I promise I’m not trying to be a creep and come onto you, okay?”
Castiel laughs nervously, his heart in his throat. “O-okay.”
“This high class restaurant I’ve always wanted to eat at is doing a Valentine’s Day dinner special that’s like half the price of a normal meal there and my ass is broke so will you pretend to be my date and come out to eat with me?” It all comes out in a rush and for the first time, Dean is the one blushing instead of Castiel.
Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Castiel is still blushing, but Dean is at least joining him now.
“H-how expensive are we talking?” Castiel asks, doing a mental calculation of his current bank account balance.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover your half. I just can’t go alone. They’re only letting couples go.” Dean beams at him as if Castiel already agreed. “So, will you come with me?”
Castiel doesn’t even have to consider it.
“Yes.”
----
Dean has never seen Castiel outside of his gas station attendant uniform. Don't get Dean wrong, the little blue vest and name tag are adorable, but Castiel cleans up well. He's gorgeous, standing outside the restaurant in dark jeans and a button up with the top two buttons undone. The blue of his shirt makes the blue of his eyes pop even though it's dark outside.
He's breathtaking.
Dean has officially been launched from yeah that college kid is cute and I have a major crush on him to fuck, I might be in love with him...
"Hey," Castiel says softly, looking slightly uncomfortable. Dean can't exactly blame him. He's been staring at the kid like an idiot.
Dean clears his throat and pastes on a smile. "Hey. You look great."
"Thanks. You too." Castiel tugs at his collar. "I, um… I don't own a tie. Do you think this'll be okay?"
"It'll be perfect. You ready?"
When Castiel nods, Dean takes his hand and starts to lead him into the restaurant. He's only holding Castiel's hand because of the whole couple ruse, of course.
At least, that’s his excuse if Castiel questions it.
The host seats them at a small table in the back corner of the restaurant. The scene screams romance. From the twinkle lights strung along the ceiling and the live piano music to the rose petal covered table and the bouquet of flowers in a vase as the centerpiece. Once they've taken their seats and have been handed the special Valentine’s Day menu, the host leaves.
Castiel's first words are, "This place is gorgeous."
Dean swallows the flirty, "You're gorgeous," and just agrees with Castiel instead.
"So why this place?” Castiel asks. “I mean, yeah it's nice and the food is probably amazing, but why'd you want to come here so bad?"
"It's new. Small town like ours, you don't get that much. Especially like this. All we end up with are crappy diners or chain restaurants, but this chef used to work at a 4-star restaurant which is amazing. I've been wanting to eat here since it opened last summer."
Castiel leans forward and it's clear he's not faking interest. The fact makes Dean's stomach flip. "You must really like food then, hey?"
"Absolutely. It was actually my dream to be a chef, but it doesn't pay the bills, at least not starting out."
"I get that. I can barely afford to live and go to school full-time, even with my financial aid. Hence the shitty gas station job."
Dean straightens in concern. "You're going to school full-time? I figured you were only half or online or something."
"Nope. I go to school during the day. It's not so bad this semester, actually. Last semester I had a practicum, so I had to do all my coursework for my classes but then on top of that do 15 hours in a classroom every week. It was brutal." Castiel laughs to himself. "I survived on coffee and hatred.'
"Coulda fooled me. You're always so happy."
"You're the bright spot in it all." Castiel's smile falls. Panic makes his breath hitch in his chest, the shudder visible from where Dean is sitting. "I-"
"So, you're an education major then?" Dean asks, saving Castiel from the embarrassment. Or maybe just saving himself from sharing his own embarrassing confession that Castiel is his bright spot too.
Castiel bounces back quickly, relief relaxing his shoulders and allowing his smile to return. "Yeah, elementary ed. I'd love to work with 2nd grade but anything under 4th will be fine. Once kids hit 4th grade they turn into little assholes."
This catches Dean by surprise, pulling a laugh from him. Castiel was always so shy and soft spoken at the gas station. Now that he's opening up, his personality is really getting a chance to shine.
Dean is on a very slippery slope here.
It only gets slipperier when Castiel says with enthusiasm, "You know, you should really try out for one of those shows. Like MasterChef! I'm sure you could get some sort of leave of absence from work. There's no way all of those people just quit their jobs, you know?"
"I've actually thought about that…" Dean darts his eyes away, feeling the same as always when his dreams come up. "Michael told me not to waste the money flying out for the whole interview process or whatever, though. Said I'm housewife good, not actually good."
"Umm, who the fuck is Michael?"
Dean looks back at Castiel before answering. He startles when he sees the rage on the young man's face. "My ex."
"Well fuck him. Seriously? It's not up to him. It's up to Gordon Ramsay - or whoever else tests your food. I don't know how the process works exactly but it's not up to him. And he sounds like an asshole anyway. If it's your dream then you need to do it, Dean! Isn't the chance worth it?" Castiel shakes his head in amazement before laughing once under his breath. "And I bet you're really fucking good, too. He sounds like an asshole that didn't deserve you. You should go on that show and kick some ass and then do a little shout out video with a huge I told you so."
Dean needs to blink a few times as he tries to process the mini-rant Castiel just spewed at him. As the words sink in, his lips spread into a wide smile that borders on painful. "You've never even tasted my food. How the hell are you so passionate about this?"
"Because I care about you." Castiel's eyes soften for half a second, something deeper passing between them. Then they light back up with humor. "And if I can't make an informed decision without eating your food, I guess you'll just have to cook for me some time."
"Yes. I suppose I will. But then you'll owe me a meal."
"Oooh, no. No, no, no. Trust me. You don't want that."
Dean chuckles. "Can't cook?"
"I held my own for a while. I made a mean hot pocket. And toast. I'm like an expert at getting the toast just the right amount of crunchy where it's not too soft and it's not burnt either." He makes a chef’s kiss with his fingers, the sound loud in the air between them. "Then, sadly, my toaster became out of commission. So, it's mostly just cereal and pb&js for me. Unless my microwave decides to work, which is extremely rare."
"What happened to your toaster?"
Castiel looks up at him with both amusement and shame. "I may have gotten a piece of frozen waffle stuck in there and I can't figure out how to get it out, so every time I start to cook something it sets on fire…"
"On fire?" Dean's eyebrows shoot up as he laughs. "Jesus. Yeah, okay. I'll be the one cooking then."
"Perfect." Castiel picks up his menu and waves it. "We should probably actually figure out what we're going to order hey?"
Dean's immediate instinct is to say no. To ask Castiel if they can just spend the night talking. Who cares about the food?
It's a terrifying thought.
It's also exhilarating.
"I can get a bottle of wine for us to share," Dean offers. "Would you like red or white?"
The blush that warms Castiel's face is so familiar, setting Dean at ease. "I'm actually not of age. Only 20."
"Oh." Dean puts the wine menu down and laughs. "Well, then. Never mind."
"You can get some though! It won't bother me."
"I actually hate wine to be honest. Much more of a beer guy."
"Yeah, I can handle maybe two wine coolers before I'm a mess anyway. Total lightweight." Castiel's chin snaps up and his eyes bulge. "Shit! I mean - not that I'd ever drink, because like that's illegal - and I'd - well-"
Dean bursts out laughing. "Calm down, Cas. You think I never drank underage? Long as I'm not in uniform we don't have a problem."
"Okay. Good." Castiel takes a drink of his water, his hand shaking. It nearly spills when he tries to put the glass back down. "If it makes you feel any better, that's pretty much the sum of all illegal activity in my life. Unless you're counting the time I stole a chap stick because all my friends were stealing stuff, but since I felt so guilty about it that I went back 2 hours later and put it on the shelf again without ever opening it, I don't think it counts. So, I'm officially arrest free, officer."
Dean laughs. "Why does it not surprise me that you would do something like that?"
"Nerdy… I know."
"I was going to say adorable." Castiel flushes at his words, ducking his head. It's so goddamn endearing that Dean finds himself admitting something for the first time since it happened. "I was arrested once. When I was 15."
"Really?"
"Yup. Sent to a boy’s home and everything."
Castiel looks confused. Dean expects him to ask how he could be a cop then, in which Dean would explain the whole juvenile records being sealed thing. Instead, he surprises Dean by asking, "What did you do?"
"I stole some bread and peanut butter. Or, well, I tried to." Dean shrugs like it's no big deal.
Castiel doesn't brush it off so easily. He reaches a hand out and places it on top of Dean's where it rests beside his water glass. Dean stares at their hands pressed together as Castiel says softly, "You must have been really hungry. I'm sorry."
"It's uh... it's-," Dean needs to stop and clear his throat, suddenly overwhelmed.
"It's okay." Castiel squeezes his hand gently. Like a reassurance. Like a promise that he's there. Still there. Not going anywhere. "Is that why you love food so much? Because it was such a luxury growing up?"
Tears threaten Dean's eyes. Castiel isn't pitying Dean or looking down on him. There's no judgement.
Castiel understands.
"Yes," Dean whispers in relief. "Yes."
Before they can discuss things further, the waitress comes to take their order. Since neither of them have really managed to look at the menu, they’re both caught a bit in the headlights. Thankfully their choices are limited on the special menu for the night, making it easier to rush through picking things out. They stumble through an agreement on pan seared scallops for an appetizer before Dean orders a medium rare filet mignon with a side of three cheese risotto and Castiel requests the same.
Dean worries that things will be awkward now that the conversation was halted but it’s not. The moment the waitress is gone to place their orders, it picks right back up.
“Hmmm.” Castiel glances around the restaurant, the wheels in his mind clearly turning. “On a scale of one to our asses getting kicked out, what do you think the rules are in me taking out my phone at a fancy place like this?”
“They’ll probably just think our date’s going bad and feel bad for us.”
The little scoffing sound Castiel makes is endearing as he pulls out his phone.
Castiel starts scrolling through his phone as Dean is left to just stare at him. He laughs awkwardly after a minute. “Ummm, are we having a bad date?”
“What?” Castiel looks up at him in confusion before shaking his head adamantly. “Absolutely not. This date is the best I’ve ever had. Which is kind of pathetic… since, you know, it’s not real or whatever.”
“Feels real,” Dean admits.
Castiel blushes. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Unsure of what he should say, Dean redirects the conversation. “Well, if it’s not that, then what the hell are you doing on your phone?”
Instead of directly answering, Castiel says, “MasterChef auditions for the next seasons starts in October. Locations are L.A, Boston, Atlanta, Houston, New York City, and Chicago.”
Dean’s heart skips. “You’re looking into MasterChef auditions?”
“Yes.” Castiel looks up from his phone. “Didn’t you mention a while ago that your brother goes to Stanford? You mentioned you were going to visit him - I swear I’m not a creep, you mentioned it when-”
“It’s fine, Cas. Yes, he goes to Stanford.”
“Well then, there you go. L.A. in October and you can stop by and visit your brother while you’re at it.” Castiel beams at him. “That gives us nine months of preparation.”
Us.
“O-okay.”
“Okay. It’s a plan.”
A plan.
Dean decides to go out on a limb, wanting to check to see if Castiel means what he thinks he means. “So, you’re going to help me?”
“Help you? Psssh.” Castiel puts his phone away and winks. “I’m going to be your official taste tester.”
“Oh, you think so?”
“Yup.”
“And what exactly do I get out of this situation?”
“Other than my excellent taste testing skills?” Castiel’s smile freezes before dropping a notch or two. "My company?"
The way he says it, like he's suddenly very unsure of himself, breaks Dean's heart.
He reaches over for Castiel's hand now that it's free again, pulling it towards him so their intertwined hands can rest in the center of the table. "I'd say that's more than enough."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself. "And Cas?"
"Yeah?"
"I was wondering if maybe you'd-" Dean pauses, looking away from that gorgeous face and bright blue eyes in case he's rejected. "I was wondering if maybe you'd consider going on a real date with me sometime? Like… ya know.. for real."
The pause that follows is so long that Dean is sure Castiel is going to say no but when he takes a chance and looks at Castiel again, Castiel is grinning. He nods enthusiastically as their eyes meet. "I'd love that. Can we count this as our first date though? Because I am terrible when it comes to first dates and this is already going so well."
Dean laughs in relief. "Sure.”
“Perfect.” Castiel pauses, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re not just dating me for the discount on coffee and donuts, are you?”
The question is clearly teasing but there’s the slightest undertone of panic beneath it, as if Castiel can’t understand why Dean would genuinely like him.
That will be something Dean fixes. He doesn’t care how long it takes.
“No, Cas. I don’t give a shit about the coffee and donuts.” He leans forward and looks Castiel directly in the eyes. “Considering it’s 3 a.m., do you really think I’m coming to the station for coffee and donuts anymore? I usually eat half the donut, wash it down with a sip of the coffee – which is decaf, in case you were wondering – and then crash into bed thinking about the cute boy at the gas station.”
Castiel seems to puff up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“All this time?”
“Mhhm.” Dean’s smile fades as he turns serious. “The first time I came to the station was after a homicide. A man killed his wife. I’d been to their house twice before because of neighbors calling in the domestic abuse but the woman… no matter what we tried, she never pressed charges against him. Always took him back. Walking into that house that night and seeing her – shit, seeing her on the floor like that. It… wrecked me. I couldn’t get myself to go home after that. Just kept driving around. When I saw the station, I decided to stop on a whim. But then there you were, humming along to the song on the overhead radio as you arranged the candy display, and I was hooked.”
With a shake of his head, Castiel mutters, “That’s not true. That – you’re not serious.”
“It was a Tuesday. Winter. One of those nights where the air is crisp but warm so every inhale is relieved, not pained. I had to go to the station to change out of my uniform and into civilian clothes because I had blood on my shirt and it became part of evidence. I was in jeans and a ratty old flannel. It was the worst night of my career to this day, and one of the worst nights of my life.” Dean closes his eyes, letting his smile grow as he pictures the scene before him. “It was a Taylor Swift song and you were into it. Like, humming under your breath, shaking your ass, bobbing your head, into it. You had no idea I was even there. It was so… happy. You were just radiating this joy even thought it was the middle of the night and I doubted you were enjoying the fact that you were awake and working at a gas station. There was just something so freeing about you. I only used the bathroom because you were distracted and I didn’t want to pull you out of it, but the next night I came back in my uniform right when my shift ended and bought my first ever coffee and donut from you. And you-”
“Laughed and said, ‘a cop buying coffee and a donut?’ Is it your life mission to become a cliché?’” Castiel finishes, his voice taking on the same tone as it did two years ago. He smiles at Dean in wonder. “I was very proud of myself for that, by the way. I was so flustered because you were gorgeous, and I just knew I was going to say something stupid. When that came out instead, I was stoked.”
“Don’t worry, I figured out pretty quick it was a fluke.”
Castiel’s jaw drops. “Hey, now!”
“I’m just speaking the truth! You’re a god damn mess. Always dropping shit and stuttering and blushing.” Dean takes Castiel’s hand in his and smiles fondly. “It’s okay, though. I love that.”
After staring at Dean for a few seconds, Castiel shakes his head. “I can’t believe it. All this time…”
“Yeah, Cas.” Dean pushes forward, leaning across the table so his lips ghost against Castiel’s. “All this time.”