Chapter Text
Make sure you get the “more fruit” option
Castiel has spent the last two minutes scowling at the canned pie filling options at Aldi. Gabriel’s text was very clear as to what he needed, but Castiel can’t seem to find the right can. The original plan was just dinner, but Gabriel decided at the last minute that he wanted something sweet (Castiel should have known. Gabriel always wants something sweet). As a result, Castiel is roaming the baking aisle at Aldi looking for apple pie filling “with more fruit” — a critical detail, according to his brother.
If Castiel is being honest, he isn’t sure why Gabriel, a baker, would want to use canned pie filling to begin with. One would think that his pride wouldn’t allow him to use a filling full of preservatives, but Castiel often forgets that “pride” and “Gabriel” rarely go hand-in-hand. With a sigh, he returns to his search.
He finally finds it, pushed toward the back of the top shelves. It must be popular, seeing that there’s only one can left. Perhaps Gabriel is right that it’s better than the others. Castiel huffs in relief, more than ready to end this search and head to Gabriel’s.
Castiel reaches for the can, and right as his fingers touch it, they brush against another hand.
Frustration flares in Castiel. He’s been studying for midterms all day. He’s hungry. He searched for this can for a while, and he’s not about to give in to some random stranger. He turns to his opponent, about to apologize while firmly explaining that he got to the can first, but loses his words when he sees who he’s competing with.
Green eyes blink back at him.
It’s Castiel’s mystery man, frozen with his hand still in the air and his mouth open in a soft “o.”
The last time Castiel saw him was on a crowded bus. Castiel was reviewing his textbook before class, and there must have been a bump in the road, because the next thing he knew the stranger was in his lap. It stunned him — not only because he came out of nowhere, but up close, it was impossible to ignore the man’s delicate features. The man was beautiful. It wasn’t a word Castiel would have associated with him based on how the man presented himself, but it was undeniable. Full bow lips parted in surprise. Long eyelashes that framed his breathtaking eyes. Having him quite literally crash into his personal space like that left Castiel completely speechless.
It was especially inconvenient, considering that after the incident where he laughed in the face of his (quite possibly concussed) brother, Castiel was determined not to give the man another thought. He hasn’t necessarily been successful in that regard (just ask Gabriel, Meg, or Balthazar), but nonetheless, the encounter on the bus had not helped.
Now the beautiful man stands in front of him again.
Castiel realizes they’ve been staring at each other in suspended silence for far longer than socially acceptable. He opens his mouth, still determined to fight for the can of fruit.
“I’m sor—”
‘CAUSE THERE IS NO COCK LIKE HORSE COCK
SEND YOUR ASSHOLE INTO SHOCK
YOU NEED HORSE COCK OF COURSE-COCK
GRAB THE LUBE AND SLAM THE DAY AWAY
Castiel freezes as the mechanical tones echo through the aisle on full volume. His brain stalls, refusing to compute what he’s hearing. Mortified, he looks at the other man, who stares back at Castiel, wide-eyed. The man bites the edge of his lips like he’s holding in a laugh. It takes Castiel far too long to realize the source of the heinously offensive music.
His phone.
Castiel has never tried to answer a call faster. He says “tried,” because his fingers are suddenly made of butter, and he fumbles with the phone. He doesn’t even check to see who’s calling. He knows exactly who the culprit is.
By the time Castiel manages to answer the phone, the ringtone has started to repeat.
“What have you done to my phone?!” Castiel shouts.
Gabriel cackles at the other end. “Please tell me you still had it on full volume.”
“I can’t believe— how could you— where do you even—” There are so many questions running through Castiel’s mind, but he can’t formulate a full sentence. It wouldn’t even matter because Gabriel is laughing too hard to hear it. All the while the poor man who had to witness this embarrassment is standing awkwardly, scratching at his ear as he waits.
He’s waiting.
Why is he waiting?
In all of the commotion Castiel completely forgot about the apple pie filling.
“It isn’t funny!” Castiel stage whispers into his phone, making sure Gabriel can hear him. As he does so, he gestures at the apple pie filling, then points a finger toward the man in the universal just a minute gesture.
The man furrows his brows at him and tilts his head. He points at himself as if to ask if Castiel is referring to him.
Castiel nods but continues to snap at Gabriel. “I could have been kicked out of the store! That was severely inappropriate!”
“Okay but it’s pretty fucking funny,” Gabriel says, finally coming down from his laughing fit. “It’s a good song, you should listen to it sometime.”
“Perhaps if it weren’t blasted at maximum volume at Aldi, I would have more positive feelings about it,” Castiel responds.
While Gabriel begins to defend his actions, from his peripheral vision, Castiel sees the stranger reach up to grab the apple pie filling and toss it in his own shopping basket.
“Thanks, man,” he says.
Before Castiel has a chance to object, he gives him a small salute and walks away.
“Wai—” Castiel tries to stop him, but the man is already gone, leaving Castiel alone in the aisle with his idiot brother on the phone laughing about some crude song.
The whole situation fills Castiel with uncharacteristic bitterness.
How could he have just left with the can like that when Castiel asked him to wait?
Between Gabriel’s sick idea of a prank, the man stealing his can of apple pie filling, and Castiel’s ever increasing hunger, the evening clearly isn’t moving in Castiel’s favor.
With an audible exhale, he turns his attention back to Gabriel. “Well, I hope you’re happy.”
“What?”
“This phone call cost you the last can of apple pie filling.” Castiel hangs up on his brother before the complaining begins.
Gabriel will just need to wait for another day to have his apple pie. It serves him right.
Castiel stares blankly at the mirror. He looks tired. The late nights studying for midterms are showing in the bags under his eyes and the way that his hair haphazardly sticks out in every which way. He makes a halfhearted effort to flatten it out with some water.
His last midterm is only a few days away, though, and once that passes he’ll take time to rest. Balthazar will most likely spend the weekend partying, and Castiel might even get the whole apartment to himself for a change. A smile surfaces on his face. It’s the small things.
He dries his hands, thinking about what studying he has left for today — the list feels daunting. At least he knows he’ll be well-supplied with coffee and pastries at Heavenly Brews.
He steps out of the bathroom into the hallway that leads back to the cafe. The walls are covered with local event posters. Gabriel has always been far more extroverted than Castiel; most weeks his brother will try convincing him to attend an event or two, but Castiel prefers the quiet of his own apartment.
Castiel turns the corner back to the sitting area, and his heart leaps out of his chest. He does a swift one-eighty and returns to the safety behind the wall.
The hallway leads to the register counter, and from where Castiel stands at the end of the hall, he can easily hear Gabriel interacting with the next customer. Slowly, with his back to the wall, Castiel peeks out for a glimpse.
The mystery stranger.
Castiel’s lingering smile dissolves into a thin frown. He wonders with mild annoyance if the man enjoyed that apple pie from the other day. He isn’t even sure why he’s hiding. At this point Castiel should expect to run into him; but he didn’t, and now his feet are firmly planted to the ground.
“Hey ho, Batman,” Gabriel greets the man with his signature cheer.
Batman? Castiel can’t decide what’s more surprising: the ridiculous nickname or the familiarity with which his brother greets the stranger. His shock is amplified by the fact that Castiel has told Gabriel and Meg multiple stories about the man over the past month. Had the two known him this whole time?
“Hey Gabriel,” the man huffs with a tone of exasperation that Castiel often associates with people interacting with Gabriel.
“You’ve given any more thought to my proposition?” Gabriel makes casual conversation while ringing up an order — the man never ordered, so he must be a regular.
“What?” Mystery Stranger looks up at him, confused.
Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. “My brother. I swear you’d get along.” He bats at the stranger’s shoulder a few times.
The blood drains from Castiel’s face. He must have misheard. There is no way Gabriel uttered the words “proposition” and “my brother” in relation to each other.
“Ah, you’re still on that, huh?” The man laughs uncomfortably.
Castiel’s cheeks burn. He’s going to murder Gabriel.
“It’s your loss.” Gabriel shrugs. “He’s a catch. Don’t you think so?” Gabriel throws the question to Meg, who’s working the espresso machine next to him.
Castiel hopes this is the end of it — there’s no way Meg would go along with this absurdity.
His hopes are slashed when after a small pause, she responds, “Yeah, I could see it. You’d like him, he’s cute.” Castiel can hear the pointed smile in her voice.
“He’s actually here today,” Gabriel continues. “He’s probably in the shitter if you want to hang around.”
Castiel quickly shuffles back behind the wall, hoping no one saw him. Just about now would be a perfect time for the ground to swallow Castiel whole. (No such luck.)
Thankfully, it’s the mystery man who puts an end to the torturous conversation.
“I think I’ll just take my coffee and go. I’m already late for work.”
Gabriel groans. “You’re no fun, man.”
“In that case, order for Batman,” Meg chimes in. Castiel hears some rustling, which he assumes is a trade-off of money and coffee.
Careful not to get caught, Castiel peeks out again just far enough to watch “Batman” pick up his coffee and leave the cafe with a final farewell.
As soon as the coast is clear, Castiel steps back into the seating area.
Gabriel perks up when he sees him. “There you are, Castiel! You just missed — woah, what’s that look for?”
“Who was that man you were just speaking with?” Castiel asks, opting to ignore Gabriel’s question.
“Oh, you heard that?” Gabriel’s features break into a crooked grin. “That’s Batman.”
“Batman?”
Meg explains. “He’s a regular. He said his name was Batman the first time he came in. It stuck.”
Castiel takes one last look at the door to confirm that Batman is well out of sight.
“That’s the man,” he whispers.
Meg leans against the counter, angling her body toward Castiel. Her brows are furrowed. “Why are you whispering?”
“That’s the man!” Castiel repeats, glancing back at the door.
He can see the moment the meaning registers in both his brother and friend.
“The man?” Gabriel asks. It’s clear from his widening smile that he finds the whole thing amusing. Castiel nods begrudgingly.
Meg starts laughing. “All this time you were talking about Batman? This is unreal. We could’ve introduced you weeks ago. That would’ve saved us all some time and energy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Castiel tips his head.
“At least I wouldn’t have had to spend the last few weeks listening to you go on and on about his sparkly green eyes and his galaxy-like freckles.” Meg rolls her eyes.
“I, I never said any of that!” Castiel blushes.
“You didn’t? Hm, must have been implied,” she says, picking up a towel to wipe down the counter.
“Unbelievable.” Gabriel shakes his head. “I have literally been trying to hook you up for a few days now.”
“Gabriel! I do not need to be ‘hooked up.’” Castiel harrumphs. He uses finger quotes to add emphasis, making sure that his brother gets the message.
Gabriel frowns. “Bro, all you do is study. You gotta get out more.”
“I’m perfectly happy with my social life,” Castiel argues. Why does everyone in his life keep pushing him to be more “social?”
“What social life?” Meg asks. Castiel glares at her.
“Take Balthazar. Why don’t you tag along to one of his parties? He seems like he knows how to have fun,” Gabriel suggests.
Castiel sighs. “Balthazar and I are very different people.”
“Have him introduce you to some people. If not Batman, maybe you could hook up with one of his friends,” Gabriel says.
“Gabriel!” Castiel warns.
Gabriel chortles, which only riles Castiel up more. He crosses his arms.
“Okay fine.” Gabriel raises his hands in surrender. “You don’t need to hook up with anyone. But Kali’s been worried about you,” he says. “If you don’t have a plus one for the wedding, the seating charts will be all off.”
Castiel groans. “Meg, please tell my brother that I’m not going to search for a partner just so that I can bring a plus one to his wedding, and that I’m fulfilled with my current social circle.”
Much to Castiel’s dismay, she cocks her head. “I don’t know, Clarence. It wouldn’t kill you to go to one party, you know?”
“Et tu, Brute?” Castiel mumbles, only for Meg to laugh at his expense.
“Live a little, get a bit crazy, have some fun,” Gabriel urges.
“I have a midterm to study for.” Castiel puts an end to the painful conversation and hastily returns to his table of textbooks.
Just as he’s sitting down, his phone pings in his pocket.
Most of the people who text Castiel are in this very coffee shop. It could be Balthazar, but he had mentioned going on a date today, and unless it’s going catastrophically poorly, Castiel doubts he’d be texting him.
The screen lights up to show the sender: Dorothy Baum.
The young woman Castiel ran into when the fire alarm went off. They had exchanged a few messages after the lecture, but hadn’t kept in touch regularly.
Hi Castiel. I hope your week hasn’t been too bad! A few friends and I are celebrating the end of midterms this Friday. Small get together with some board games. Want to join?
“Ooh, how timely.”
Castiel jumps at Meg’s voice right next to his ear. She’s leaning over his shoulder, not even trying to hide that she’s reading Dorothy’s text. Castiel holds his phone to his chest.
“Please don’t look at my private messages.” He glares up at her. “What do you want?”
She holds up a coffee. “On the house. Truce?”
Castiel’s frustration at his friend is short-lived. He takes the coffee from her and gestures toward the seat across from him. Meg pulls out a chair.
“You should go,” she says.
“Meg.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got assignments. You have a test. You’d rather be home. I’ve heard it all.” Meg rolls her eyes. “But Gabe isn’t wrong, you know? All you’ve done is study these last three years. You should have some fun. Make some actual memories before you graduate.”
Castiel frowns. He knows Meg isn’t wrong. Most of his college career had been spent at the library, at his desk in his apartment, or at Heavenly Brews if he needed a change in scenery. He looks down at the text. Anxiety tugs at his stomach as he thinks of a reply.
With a sigh, he looks back at his friend. “Meg, would you like to go to a party with me?”
Meg grins, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Why Clarence, I thought you’d never ask.”
“You cannot be serious right now.” Meg throws her head back to punctuate her grievance. “The party starts at eight? Castiel, it’s literally seven fifty-eight,” she grumbles.
Castiel looks at his watch. He tilts his head to the side, confused. “Yes, and Dorothy’s house is right there. We’ll be right on time.”
“Like a couple of dweebs. I can’t believe you’d bring me to a party and be right on time.” Meg sighs, but she starts walking toward the house. She’s making a whole show of it, sulking as she goes.
It must be some unspoken rule of parties that Castiel never learned. He frowns, knowing that it would frustrate him to no end if people showed up late all the time to events he plans (not that Castiel does much event planning).
Dorothy greets them warmly when they knock on the door. “Castiel! So glad you could make it! You’re the first ones here.”
“Who could’ve seen that coming,” Meg whispers under her breath.
Castiel casts her a sideways glance. He tries to keep his expression neutral as he introduces his companion. “Please forgive her manners. This is my friend Meg.”
Dorothy explains that she lives with three others and a small dog. Her roommates greet them with varying levels of enthusiasm and warmth before Dorothy offers them a drink.
“The others will probably get here within the hour. We’ve got some snacks if you’re hungry.” She heads into the kitchen to bring things out to the living room.
Heat rises to Castiel’s cheeks. It seems like Dorothy wasn’t ready to have them here yet — perhaps Meg was right and they should have arrived slightly later. He awkwardly stands in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure of what to do while Dorothy prepares the snacks. He wrings his hands and looks around for Meg in hopes that chatting with his friend would make him look less out of place than he feels. Meg, however, has wandered off to the living room where she’s already making herself comfortable. Castiel watches as she nestles onto the sofa next to one of Dorothy’s roommates, casually leaning into his personal space. Even more surprising is how the man doesn’t seem to mind. He shows her something on his phone, and she laughs, strategically placing a hand on his forearm.
Castiel’s insides twist. He invited Meg hoping she would be a comforting presence amidst a group of strangers, but he didn't anticipate how inadequate he would feel beside her. He frowns. It isn't Meg's fault that he's socially inept. Perhaps the whole party was a mistake after all.
Before he can spiral too deep into regret, Dorothy throws him a lifeline. “Castiel, could you help me with these?”
“Yes, of course.” He hurries into the kitchen, happy to have a task to busy himself with.
Dorothy has prepared a variety of snacks (sweet, savory, healthy, junkfood) piled onto so many plates that it leaves Castiel wondering what she actually meant by a “small get together.” He picks up the two plates closest to him.
“Thanks.” Dorothy smiles. “I think one of the people coming is bringing a pie. According to Charlie, he’s a talented baker.”
Before Castiel has a chance to ask who Charlie is, Dorothy has left the kitchen. Castiel wonders what type of pie it will be — he’s been craving apple pie ever since he missed out on Gabriel’s pie earlier in the week. Perhaps he’ll get lucky and this friend of a friend will bring an apple pie.
He follows Dorothy to the living room. “How many more people are you expecting?” he asks, more to ease his own nerves than anything. He places the plates on the table along with the others Dorothy put down.
“Just three. Charlie, her friend, and her friend’s brother,” she replies. “I’ve only met her friend and his brother a few times, but they seemed nice.”
“And Charlie is…?”
“Sorry, she’s the girl I’m dating. It’s relatively new, so I wanted today to be laid back with enough people to take some pressure off of it.” She smiles stiffly, scratching at her cheek. Then, as if her own words just registered, she’s quick to add, “And I’ve been meaning to reach out to you again, so it was a win-win.”
Castiel nods. He isn’t offended at perhaps being a place-filler. It’s generous of Dorothy to think of him when considering who to invite to the party.
“I’m looking forward to meeting them all.” He smiles.
The following hour isn’t as painful as Castiel expected it to be. Meg eventually saunters back to sit by Castiel, leaning against him to keep him grounded with her warmth. Castiel breathes easier knowing she’s there. Dorothy actively includes Castiel in the conversation with her roommates, and they start playing a game called Never Have I Ever as they wait for the rest of the guests to arrive. (Castiel dominates the game, which, according to Meg, is not actually a good thing.)
About a quarter to nine, there’s a knock on the door.
“What’s up bitchesssssss?” An enthusiastic voice booms through the living room as soon as Dorothy opens the door.
Castiel blinks up at the red-haired woman who just entered the room. She greets Dorothy’s roommates one-by-one with friendly hugs, and when she finally stands in front of Castiel, she reaches out a hand.
“Hi, I’m Charlie.” She flashes a toothy grin, and her green eyes sparkle as she smiles. Something about her puts Castiel at ease straight away.
Castiel shakes her hand from his seat. “I’m Castiel, this is my friend Meg.” Meg waves halfheartedly from next to him.
Charlie opens her mouth like she’s about to ask a question when a man walks up behind her.
“Char, you forgot your beer in the —”
Castiel freezes.
Standing behind Charlie with a beautiful pie in his hands is the man Castiel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks.
The music blasting from the TV goes quiet in Castiel’s ears. His heartbeat quickens. The hair on the back of his neck rises as he stares at the man, wondering how this could possibly be. It’s a question that he’s asked himself time after time over the past month, but today it feels especially pertinent. Out of all the places someone could be celebrating the end of their exams, they both ended up in this house of someone Castiel barely knows.
“Holy fucking Batman,” Meg mutters next to Castiel, jerking him out of his stupor.
“Dean? Earth to Dean!” Charlie, who is now standing next to the man (when did she get over there?), waves her hand in front of his face.
Dean.
The name slots right into place — the final missing puzzle piece.
Dean.
Castiel stands, still in a bit of a daze, and walks up to the man — to Dean. Dean’s gaze swims across the room, back to the door he came in from, then finally back to Castiel, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.
“Oh, do you already know each other?” Charlie asks.
““No,”” they blurt out in unison. Castiel’s lips twitch in a hint of a smile.
“Not really,” Castiel says. “But we’ve seen each other around.”
Charlie looks at Castiel, then at Dean, then back at Castiel.
“Mystery Hot Gu—”
Whatever Charlie tries to say is muffled by Dean rapidly covering her mouth with his hand. Castiel observes Dean as a bright blush colors his cheeks. The two friends seem to have a telepathic conversation through some jerky head movements and a few intentional raised eyebrows.
Slowly, once Dean seems confident that Charlie understood what he was communicating, he removes his hand from her mouth.
Charlie clears her throat. Then, with an incredibly purposeful formality, she gestures between the two. “Castiel, this is my bestie, Dean. Dean, this is Castiel.”
“Uh.” Dean scratches the back of his head. “Nice to finally meet you, Castiel.”
A huff of air escapes Castiel’s lips. It’s absurd after the many times they’ve crossed paths, but he extends a hand. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean’s smile is lopsided and endlessly endearing. It’s almost unfair, as any and all frustration that he ever felt against the man dissolves as their hands connect in a firm handshake.
“I pray that isn’t the pie filling you stole from me at Aldi.” Castiel glances at the pie in his arm.
Dean looks taken aback. “What? No, I baked this one from scrat— hold on, you told me to take that can. You were on the phone.”
“I expressly asked you to wait until I was finished with my brother,” Castiel counters.
“You gestured at me to have it, I asked if you were sure, and you nodded…” He pauses, then says with a smile, “You know what, I can see how that whole situation was just confusing.”
Castiel laughs. “You might be right.”
“My bad, man. I thought you told me to have it. How’s this? You can take home any leftovers from this pie as an apology.” He lifts the pie in his hand. “I promise you it’s a lot better.”
“I suppose that’s a sufficient trade-off,” Castiel replies. The pie does look amazing.
“Hey guys?” Charlie finally chimes in from beside them. “So glad you’re finally getting to meet and all, but how long do you plan on holding hands?”
Castiel looks down at where their hands are still clasped. As if a spell has been lifted, they both pull their hands back immediately.
“Uh, well, okay then,” Dean stammers. His eyes dart around the room until they land on Dorothy. “Where do you want this pie, Dorothy?”
“Over in the kitchen is great.”
Castiel only notices how quiet the room has gotten once the two leave. Everyone in the room is watching him with interest. Meg looks exceptionally smug, and Castiel thinks he might come to regret inviting her to the party.
Charlie looks like she’s about to vibrate out of her skin, but before she can say anything, someone calls out, “Charlie, you forgot your beer in the car —”
Another man, who Castiel recognizes as Dean’s brother, walks into the apartment with a six pack of beer in his hands. He must feel all the eyes in the room land on him amidst the silence.
He looks around, blinking a few times as he studies the faces in the room.
“Sooooo, what did I miss?”
*****
Once Dean returns to the living room, he and Castiel give a heavily abbreviated version of their numerous run-ins. No one, with the exception of Charlie (who gives Castiel some very knowing glances as they retell the stories), seems to think of it as anything more than a funny coincidence.
Because it isn’t.
There’s nothing more it could be.
Once the story is told, people quickly move on and get the party started. Dorothy pulls out a game called Telestrations that requires art skills that Castiel doesn’t have. Thankfully, in this case a lack of art skills leads to hilarity, and no one seems to mind. (A stark difference from his earlier attempt at Never Have I Ever.)
Throughout the game, Castiel can’t help how his eyes travel across the table to Dean. There’s something magnetic about Dean’s presence; Castiel can’t seem to look away for more than a few minutes at a time. The others clearly feel it, too. People go out of their way to ask for his opinion, to include him in conversations, to get his attention. It’s almost surreal, now that he’s met him, that Castiel’s Mystery Man is someone so antithetical to Castiel.
Dean is wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt under a red flannel. He shed his leather jacket after their initial meeting, and he looks softer without it, somehow. His movements are more fluid, more dynamic. With each movement of his hands, the rings that adorn his fingers glint under the LED lamps in the room. Castiel gathers that the man is fond of jewelry — he also wears a necklace with a unique charm that decorates the base of his neck.
Which leads Castiel to the way Dean laughs. Castiel can’t look away. The way Dean’s bright green eyes crinkle in mirth, how his head tips back to expose his clean, strong neck. Frankly, it’s borderline rude for Dean to be so distracting. Castiel decides he can’t be blamed for stealing glances.
It would be less embarrassing, however, if Dean would stop looking at him as well. Considering how often their eyes meet, one would think that Castiel’s gaze came with a buzzer to notify Dean anytime Castiel was trying to be sneaky.
But that doesn’t explain the times where Castiel looks up to find the other man’s eyes already on him. Those moments don’t last long, with Dean hurriedly turning back to whoever else is wanting his coveted attention, but Castiel doesn’t miss the way his cheeks flush pink.
Despite that, it isn’t until they take a break from games, and Meg goes off to charm one of Dorothy’s unsuspecting roommates, that the two finally talk.
Castiel watches Dean as he travels across the living room, stepping over pillows strewn about the floor for people to sit on, and comes up to where Castiel is perched on the sofa. Castiel can hear his heart pounding in his ears, getting louder with each step Dean takes closer to him.
One of Dean’s hands holds a beer bottle. The other holds a slice of pie.
“Hey,” Dean greets as he sits down on the sofa next to him. Reading others isn’t Castiel’s strong suit (ask anyone in his life, and they would attest to this), but Castiel gets the distinct sense that Dean is forcing his casual tone of voice.
The old sofa creaks under Dean’s weight, and Castiel is extra conscious of how gravity pushes his body toward Dean’s. Castiel straightens up, shoulders tense. His fingers, wrapped tightly around a glass of water, find a single drop of condensation to wipe off.
He mumbles a small, “Hello.”
“I noticed you hadn’t tried the pie yet, so I thought I’d bring you a slice as a peace offering.”
Castiel takes the plate that is handed to him. He hadn’t been avoiding trying the pie, per se, but he didn’t want to seem overeager. “Thank you.”
Dean’s body relaxes into the couch the moment Castiel accepts the plate.
Before Castiel has a chance to dig into his pie, Dean asks, “So, how do you know Meg?” He leans back into the sofa, settling into a comfortable position.
Castiel wonders if this conversation could have started after pie, but then he notices the way Dean’s leg shakes. Perhaps he’s just as nervous as Castiel is.
“She works for my brother.”
Dean stills. “But she works at Heavenly… does that mean…”
“I believe you’ve met Gabriel,” Castiel says with a sigh.
“ You’re Gabriel’s brother?!” Dean exclaims.
Castiel’s awkward body does its best to sink into the sofa. “I hope you don’t hold it against me.”
Dean is silent for a moment, no doubt recalling every inappropriate action Gabriel has ever taken. Because regardless of whether Castiel has witnessed it or not, he’s certain that it’s happened.
“I, uh, never would’ve guessed,” is (thankfully) all Dean says.
“I’m told the family resemblance isn’t very strong,” Castiel responds.
Finally, there’s a lull in the conversation and he’s able to break off a bite of the pie with his fork. Dean eyes his actions closely. His lips are gently parted in anticipation, and Castiel can’t decide which is more distracting — the man’s undivided attention or his beautiful bow-shaped mouth.
He forgets about both the moment he takes a bite. Bright, sweet and tart apple flavor bursts across his taste buds. The apples are cooked to perfect tenderness, and the crust is flakey with an un-soggy bottom that even the queen of baking herself, Mary Berry, would be proud of. There’s a depth to the flavor, perhaps an extra spice or something that highlights the sharp tartness of the apples. Castiel doesn’t suppress the satisfied groan that escapes his lips.
From his periphery, he sees Dean’s entire body exhale. “You like it?” he asks, slightly breathy.
Castiel nods and takes another bite. “Your apology pie is accepted. Wholeheartedly.” The comment gets a pleased chuckle from Dean. (Or perhaps it’s the way Castiel can’t stop digging into the pie.) “You’re giving Gabriel a run for his money with this pie.”
“That’s some high praise right there,” Dean jokes.
“It’s true.” Castiel takes a sip of his water.
Over the past few weeks, he’s thought a lot about this man sitting next to him. Not all of his thoughts were pleasant or kind, but now, sitting close enough that he can feel the warmth emanating from Dean’s body, now that he’s seen his earnest response to Castiel enjoying his pie, and gotten a glimpse of the person that is Dean, Castiel has a hard time remembering any of the negative thoughts that crossed his mind.
“I never got to thank you.”
“For what?” Dean tilts his head.
“For saving me and Clarence, the kitten. That one day,” Castiel says.
Dean’s cheeks redden almost instantly as he grimaces. “I literally sneezed in your face.”
“That was unpleasant.” Castiel smiles despite the memory. Looking back at it now, he remembers it mostly for Dean’s heroic deed. “But you saved us both from getting gravely injured.”
“Speaking of, what happened to the kitten?” Dean asks, not allowing Castiel to dwell on the point. “You said his name is Clarence. Did you keep him?”
“Oh, Meg took him in,” Castiel says, tipping his chin toward Meg across the room.
Dean snaps his fingers. “The kitten she adopted recently.” He takes a sip of his beer.
Castiel notices that the hand is no longer bandaged. “How is your hand?” he asks.
“Huh?”
He points at Dean’s hand that holds his beer. “Didn’t you injure it when you pushed us out of the street? I remember you had it wrapped at the lecture.”
“Good eye.” Dean holds up his hand to give Castiel a view of the back of it. Thankfully, Castiel sees no lasting scars. “It’s as good as new.”
“I’m glad,” Castiel says — and he means it. Even when he thought Dean may be a disrespectful assbutt, guilt had tugged at his chest thinking of how the man injured himself saving Castiel. “Speaking of the lecture,” Castiel starts.
The lecture. It had bothered Castiel since that day, why Dean disappeared without a word. They weren’t there together, but they were in the middle of a conversation when the alarm started.
“Where did you go when the fire alarm went off?” Castiel asks.
Dean pauses. The question must have been unexpected. “I was putting my stuff in my backpack and fell behind,” he explains. He readjusts in his seat. “I — I looked for you, you know?”
“You did?” A spark spreads through Castiel at the thought. Dean looked for him.
Dean nods. “Weird to think we could’ve officially met back then if it weren’t for the alarm.” He flashes a crooked grin that makes Castiel’s insides swirl.
Castiel chuckles, though it comes out a little rough. “It may have made our future interactions slightly smoother. But then I suppose I may not have met Dorothy, and we would have never ended up at this party together.”
“That would’ve been a shame now, wouldn’t it.” Dean rests his elbow against the back of the sofa and leans back.
Castiel’s eyes travel across Dean’s relaxed body. The dip of his waist, and the curve of his — oh god. He puts an immediate halt to his train of thought and returns his gaze back to Dean’s face before he can be caught looking. It’s as if the spirit of Gabriel possessed him and turned him into a horny teenager. Dean watches him with an unreadable expression; his body stiffens and he sits back up. Did he notice Castiel leering? Castiel’s body feels like it's ready to spontaneously combust.
But when Dean opens his mouth, the words that come out are unexpected.
“I was, uh, a bit nervous to come talk to you,” he says.
Castiel blinks at him. “You were?”
“Yeah, after the library?” Dean says. His eyes are unfocused, looking past Castiel rather than at him.
The library.
Castiel must look as confused as he feels, because Dean squints at him.
“You know, when I said hi at the library?”
Castiel can’t recall running into Dean at the library, and if he did, he’s sure he’d remember it. He remembers every encounter in vivid detail. Castiel shakes his head, and his stomach sinks slightly at the conclusion he draws. “You must be thinking of someone else.”
“Dude, you shoved a book in my face. In the second floor stacks at Watson?” Dean crosses his arms, his brows furrowed now.
It takes Castiel a moment to even remember when he was last at the second floor mezzanine of Watson. “Was this last week? Were you by the Gender and Sexuality section?”
Dean nods. “I was on the other side of the shelf.”
“I — I didn’t see you.” Castiel frowns as he starts to connect the dots. “You said hi?”
Dean nods again.
“You thought I ignored you?”
“Well —” Dean rubs at his neck. “Didn’t have much else to go off.”
That stack of the library is always quiet. The image of Dean in a quiet aisle alone, thinking that Castiel purposefully ignored him turns into a heavy weight in Castiel’s chest. He should have heard Dean’s voice, but he remembers being in a hurry that day.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Castiel assures.
“I thought you might have, you know, been pissed at the whole ‘laughing at Sam eating shit’ thing.” There’s a weak smirk on Dean’s face but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Even so. I wouldn’t do that. I’d never do that,” Castiel says again. He needs Dean to know.
Dean purses his lips and nods, but the action feels strained. “Cool,” is all he says.
Castiel gets the sense that he isn’t fully convinced.
“Did you see that the lecture was rescheduled? It was announced last week.” Castiel asks, looking for something to bring back the relaxed ease they shared just a few minutes ago.
“I didn’t. When for?” Dean shifts, fully facing him again. Tension leaves his shoulders at the change in subject.
“Next week,” Castiel answers, then an idea strikes him. “Would you like to attend together?”
Dean looks surprised by the invitation — and if he’s being honest, Castiel is just as shocked. He can’t remember the last time he took the initiative to invite someone to an outing. But Dean seems to bring a new side out of him, with his casual charm and easy conversation, and Castiel can’t stand the idea of Dean thinking that he was avoiding him.
The pause before Dean responds lasts too long, giving Castiel’s anxiety ample time to flare up. He wonders if he may have mistook Dean’s polite friendliness for more than it was.
Eventually, though, Dean clears his throat and answers in a low voice, “Uh, yeah, I’d like that.”
Relief floods Castiel’s body.
I’d like that.
Three simple words, but it feels like so much more.
It feels like a promise.
*****
Castiel only lasts about another hour and a half before his social battery hovers above empty.
Dean has long been pulled away by another admirer of his charm and wit. Castiel, without any excuse to keep Dean to himself any longer, watched it happen without much fanfare.
It’s fine, though, he reminds himself. He’ll see him again next week at the lecture.
Everyone at the party has been lovely. Charlie sat down to get to know him, and Castiel can see why Dorothy likes her so much. She’s bubbly, bright, and makes easy friends (it took her five minutes before declaring Castiel one of her “BFFs”). She’s also an absolute whirlwind, but Castiel was surprised to find he enjoyed getting swept up by her energy.
He also got to meet Sam officially. As the designated driver and only one underaged, he was the only other sober person at the event. Castiel learned that Sam is a freshman with plans to study pre-law. He’s sharp and quick-witted, and based on how he thanked Castiel for how he worried for him after his fall in the hallway, he’s also a kind-hearted human.
They say birds of a feather flock together — after getting to know Dorothy better, it makes sense that her friends (and by association, their friends) would all be kind. Castiel hasn’t felt the pressure that usually overcomes him when he’s meeting new people; the one that demands that he perform in an “acceptable” way. A small nagging voice in his brain still tells him they were all just humoring him, but they never once acted in a way to indicate that.
Perhaps these were simply just good people, he tells the voice in his head.
Regardless, Castiel has a limit to his social capacity. He pushes himself off the sofa that has kept him comfortable for the evening, and finds Meg snacking in the kitchen.
“Ready to go?” she asks him before he has a chance to speak. Years of friendship has made her adept at reading his moods and expressions, and Castiel is reminded as to why he wanted her with him tonight.
His thankful smile comes easily as he nods. “I’d like to say goodbye to everyone, but yes.”
They announce their departure and begin to make the rounds. Charlie seems genuinely disappointed he’s leaving, and gives him a prolonged hug. Dean hovers next to them. He shifts on his feet with his hands in his pockets.
After what feels like several minutes, but in actuality was probably a few seconds, Charlie finally releases Castiel, at which point he finds himself face-to-face with Dean.
“It was, uh, nice meeting you,” Dean starts. His eyes don’t quite meet Castiel’s as he scratches behind his ear.
Castiel hesitates for a moment, hoping that he hadn’t misread the situation. Before he can talk himself out of it, he says, “I would like your phone number, if you’re amenable.”
“Amena—”
“To make plans for the lecture, as we discussed earlier,” he continues before Dean can respond. “Unless you were being polite and were not actually interested in attending together. Which is fine, if that’s the case, I understand.” He’s babbling now but can’t seem to stop. His whole body feels warm now that he’s here asking for Dean’s number. Suddenly, attending the lecture with this beautiful near-stranger seems like the dumbest idea that Castiel’s ever had.
But Dean laughs, then looks almost surprised at himself for doing so. Castiel doesn’t miss how his lips twitch before he brings up a hand to cover it.
“No, I am,” he says, then quickly adds, “Interested, that is.”
Castiel releases a sharp breath. “I’m glad.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a new contact screen. “What’s your last name?”
Dean shoots him a grin. “You’re a full name contact kind of guy, huh?”
“It’s practical,” Castiel counters, matter-of-factly. “What if I have two acquaintances with the same first name?” He didn’t realize there were people who didn’t put last names in their contacts.
Dean huffs a laugh. “You’re right. It’s Winchester. Dean Winchester.”
Something flutters in his stomach as he looks at the name on his screen.
Dean Winchester
Finally, a name to a face.
“I’ll be sure to text you before the lecture, then,” Castiel says, storing his phone safely back in his back pocket.
“Looking forward to it,” Dean replies, his voice soft.
“Goodbye, Dean.”
*****
In the safety of his dark bedroom, cocooned in his softest, warmest blanket, Castiel smiles down at his phone and opens up his text app.
The entire drive home, through Meg’s merciless teasing and the surprisingly congested traffic, Castiel had mentally worked on crafting his first text message to Dean.
Something friendly but not too intense; to-the-point but not too robotic.
It wasn’t necessarily a strength of his, but he was determined.
His fingers stall as he recalls Meg once pestering him about societal norms and some nonsensical “three-day rule.” Would this be another faux pas akin to arriving on time to a party?
Then again, Castiel has never been great with societal norms.
He types the message and sends it before he can second guess himself.
Hello, Dean. This is Castiel Novak.