Fic: Kitchen Overhaul (4/4)

[powerfulweak]

Part 4

Castiel watches the rough cut footage of Winchester and Son’s over Crowley’s shoulder. It’s dark in the editing bay and the contrasting brightness of the screen causes his eyes to ache.
“What do you think?” Crowley mumbles, as the video continues to play.

“I don’t know, Crowley,” Castiel says, rubbing at his eyes furiously, “You managed to make me look like an asshole.”

“You always look like an asshole,” Crowley counters, “That’s why you were hired for this.”

“But a bigger asshole than usual,” Castiel replies, “Did you manage to capture every dirty look Dean gave me?” It was hard rewatching the footage, especially watching Dean’s expression throughout the episode. Every frown, every eye roll, every stony glare cast in Castiel’s direction felt like an immediate dagger in the heart.

Or maybe it was just Castiel’s guilty conscience.
Originally it hadn’t mattered whether he left a day early or not, but following their night together, Castiel felt like maybe he owed it to Dean to say something. He had meant to, too, but then he’d been distracted by Dean’s amazing shower and even more amazing mouth.

Castiel’s cock gives a valiant twitch at the memory and he has to move to readjust himself. He watches distractedly as the episode continues, featuring more shots of an exhausted and angry Dean and an apologetic Sam. When they get to the last scenes, though, Castiel sits up and pays attention.

It was the day after their morning together. Dean looks calm and focused and, perhaps most importantly, well-rested. He discusses menu changes with his brother and Castiel feels his heart twist when Dean puts his advice into practice.

After all Castiel did, after walking away without an explanation, he would’ve completely understood if Dean had chucked his suggestions just out of spite, but no, Dean didn’t do that. He rose above any pettiness, and acted like a professional and for some reason, this makes Castiel feel worse than he already does.

“What do you think?” Crowley asks, pausing the footage at the credits. Castiel nods briskly.

“It works, uh…” He quirks his lips to the side, “Did Dean really change the menu?”

“Yeah, after all that fight, the boy just bent over, no problem,” Castiel has to stifle a laugh over Crowley’s unintentional and incorrect innuendo, “He also mentioned possibly contacting a nearby cooking school and partnering in a work study program. I wonder where he ever got that idea?” Crowley raises a questioning brow and stares at Castiel accusingly. Castiel wants to throw Crowley’s underhanded tactics back in his face, but he instead shrugs absently before rising from the chair and walking out of the editing bay.

He walks down the hall to his tiny excuse for an office. Hannah is already in there, gaze locked on her tablet.

“The network wants you at the upfronts in May, but I think we’d discussed-”

“Oh for the love of God, Hannah! Can you take your eyes off that fucking thing for two Goddamn seconds!” Castiel barks. Hannah’s head shoots up at the uncharacteristic outburst, eyes wide in shock. Castiel immediately regrets it, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” He falls gracelessly into his desk chair and lets his head drop into his hand, rubbing at his eyes once more. Hannah watches him, tilting her head curiously, before setting her tablet down on the opposite table, crossing the room and leaning against the window.

“What’s going on, Castiel?” He knows her question is merely a courtesy, his chance to spill everything. Hannah is astute enough to know what’s going on. She’s known exactly what’s been going on since Castiel disappeared from their hotel at 9 pm, only to return wearing the same slightly-more rumpled clothes at 10 am the next day.

“I fucked up,” Castiel admits softly. He can’t see her, but he knows Hannah is nodding.

“Ok… How?”

“I… the whole Winchester and Sons thing,” He sighs, “I came at it all wrong and I acted like such an… an… assbutt!” Hannah snorts.

“You’re always very tough on these owners,” Hannah reminds him.

“Yeah, but I got downright cruel with Dean,” he says, lifting his head, “He accused me of not knowing shit and I lost it.”

“You told them what he needed to hear,” Hannah offers, “And they took your advice in the end, right?” Cas nods, but his mood is still in the gutter.

“Is this about you sleeping with Dean and not telling him you were leaving?” Castiel’s head pops up and he stares at Hannah dumbstruck, receiving a withering look in return.

“Oh please,” Hannah chides, “It was so clear that boy had gotten some and the way you looked the next morning, I know you’re the one that gave it to him.” Castiel blushes deeply and looks away, his silence answer enough.

“Look, Castiel, how you are when you’re working, that’s fine. I understand that. Hell, it’s encouraged.” Hannah offers, “But you’re not an asshole, not really. You are not a cruel person... But what you did to Dean was pretty cruel.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Castiel asks, dropping his chin into his hands and staring up at her.

“Apologize, first and foremost. Beg for forgiveness if you ever want Dean to look at you again, secondly. After that?” Hannah shrugs and bites at her cuticle. “I don’t know; you’re the idea man.” She grabs her tablet up off the desk and slips it under her arm. “Just fix it,” she orders, pointing a finger in Castiel’s face before righting herself and swiping the tablet on. “Now, as I was saying: in May… the Up-fronts or that Nat Geo special?”

Dean sits in their office glancing through a stack of resumes. There is a soft knock at the door and he looks up to see Sam standing in the doorway, holding up a stack of paper.
“We’ve received another 10,” he says.

“10?” Dean gapes. “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Sam steps into the office and drops the stack onto the desk.

“Nope,” Sam says with a pleased grin. He drops down into the chair opposite Dean.

“They do know this is an unpaid internship, right?” Dean asks.

“I don’t think it matters,” Sam says. “Never underestimate the appeal of real-world experience and college credit.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Damn,” he sighs with a pleased chuckle. He hadn’t expected this kind of response when he contacted the culinary schools in the area, but he can’t say he’s disappointed in the result. If Dean does have a gripe, it’s only that he’ll have to spend extra time reviewing resumes and interviewing prospective clients. Dean glances at the name at the top of the page, ‘Kevin Tran’, quickly scanning his rather impressive credentials.

“How do I break it to this kid that ‘cello virtuoso’ didn’t need to be on his application?” Dean jokes. Sam laughs softly and considers Dean.

“You look well,” he says. Dean raises his head, surprised by the admission. “I’m serious Dean, you look a lot better, like you’ve been sleeping.” Dean nods in agreement. Following a little restructuring, and a lot of insistence on Sam’s part, Dean had loosened his iron-grip on his responsibilities. It had been hard to let go at first. More than once he found his sister-in-law outside his front door when he tried to return to the bakery. Jess read him the riot act as she directed him back into the house and into bed.

In the end, the bakery hadn’t burned down without his constant presence. Dean would admit that was slightly disappointing, although not enough to give up a full-night’s rest.

“So, Jess and I are having a little get-together tomorrow night,” Sam starts carefully. Dean hums in response, half-focused on the resumes. “We’re having a viewing party. They’re… uh, they’re airing our episode tomorrow.” Dean’s brow pinches together but he doesn’t look at his brother.

“Our episode of ‘Kitchen Overhaul?’ Dean?”

“Yeah Sam, I get it,” Dean snaps. He was hoping to forget that whole experience if he could.

“So are you coming over?” Sam asks, eyes hopeful. Dean looks up at his brother, shoulders slumped.

“Sam,” he groans. “Don’t-”

“Do you really hate Chef Novak that much?” Sam asks skeptically. Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face in exasperation.

“It’s not that, Sam. It’s…” Dean trails off, annoyed that Sam won’t drop this. He thought they had finished this conversation weeks ago. “You know what Sam? You’re right. I do hate Chef Novak and never want to look at his stupid, smug… perfect face ever again.”

Sam smirks with an amused snort but drops the topic. “Alright Dean,” he says, rising to his feet. “But if you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Dean supplies, refocusing his attention on the applications. Sam turns, about to head back to the front of the bakery, but stops in the doorway.

“Perfect face?” He asks with wry grin.

“Out, Sam!” Dean orders, pointing a finger toward the door. Sam’s laugh echoes through the kitchen.

Castiel and Hannah trudge through the brush, not more than a few feet behind their guide and interpreter. The rainforest is mesmerizing and Castiel can’t help but gape in amazement at his surroundings. He can hear their cameramen huffing behind them, weighed down by their equipment on the foreign terrain. Davi, their guide, says something in his native language and Artur, their interpreter, calls back to them.
“He says we will stop for the night shortly.”

Castiel and Hannah both nod and wipe the sweat from their brows. “This is much better than upfronts,” Hannah huffs, stepping over a massive root in their path and Castiel can’t disagree with that. When the choice came down to spending days brown-nosing TV executives or exploring the culinary diversity of the native tribes of Brazil, it was an easy decision. A month without Crowley only sweetened the deal.

Castiel can’t deny that his mind often drifts back to Dean. He never did contact the man, as he was too wrapped up in preparations for the trip. At least, that was his excuse. He scowls in thought and Hannah glances over at him.

“He won’t hate you,” she assures, reading his mind.

“He always hated me,” Castiel argues. “Just hates me more now.”

“You don’t know that,” Hannah says, adjusting the straps of her rucksack. Castiel shoots her a doubtful look but doesn’t say anything.

“Look, we’ll be back in a couple weeks, just… go see him,” Hannah offers curtly. No doubt she’s sick of Castiel’s hemming and hawing over his situation.

“And say what? Sorry we fucked and I ran off without explanation?” He grabs Hannah lightly by the shoulder, indicating for her to stop so the camera guys can catch up.

“Basically, yeah,” she responds. “Look, I’m not saying a grand gesture would work, but it probably couldn’t hurt either.” They continue walking once the crew are a few feet behind them.

“Grand gesture?” Castiel looks at her doubtfully. “Like what?” Hannah shrugs as much as her rucksack will allow.

“I don’t know, show him that you actually give a shit about him or something he loves,” Hannah replies. They’re approaching a clearing and Hannah picks up her pace to finish their trek.

“Like the bakery?” Castiel asks, hurrying after her.
She stops in her tracks and turns to Castiel in exasperation. “Yes, like the bakery,” she says dully before continuing toward the clearing. “I’m your assistant, Castiel. I don’t get paid enough to sort out your love life. Honestly.” Castiel stands in place, wracking his brain. The cameramen pass him as they head to the clearing. There has to be something he can do for Dean.

When it hits him, it seems so obvious that he wonders how he missed it before. He smiles to himself, rushing to where Hannah and the crew are setting up camp.

1 month later

Dean shows Alex and Kevin how to properly whip meringue for a lemon pie. The bakery is nearing the end of the early morning rush and they have to finish half a dozen pies in less than an two hours. The cafe is busy and the soft murmur of customers ordering is drowned out by the hiss of the espresso machine and the ring of the cash register. It’s music to Dean’s ears. The noise from the front gets louder when Ash opens the kitchen door and calls out Dean’s name.

“Dean, there’s someone here to see you!” Dean rolls his eyes. Ash might be a genius, able to explain the chemical process of leavening bread in detail, but the kid has yet to grasp the idea of taking a message.

“Busy, Ash!” Dean calls out, before turning his attention back to the girls. “Now you’re going to want to let this set slightly before we take the pies out of the oven, otherwise we might get some weeping.”

Having the students here has been a mixed blessing. While some of them really know their shit and are a boon to the bakery (Dean is considering hiring Kevin on full time when he graduates), others Dean sees as giant 5-year-olds (Aaron’s not allowed near the stove after he set his sleeve on fire… a second time). Still, it’s been nice having something of a break and a life outside of the bakery. As much as he hates to admit that Cas was right, it was true. More employees meant more efficiency, better product. One of the students, a tech-savvy red-head named Charlie, even volunteered to set up and run their social media accounts and online ordering system.

“Uh Dean?” Ash pokes his head through the door once more, “I think you’re really going to want to come out here.” Dean growls and instructs Kevin to take over. He stomps through the door, ready to give Ash a rice of his mind when he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

It’s Castiel, standing in the middle of his bakery, looking carefully at the decor.

“Cas?” Dean asks, wiping his hands on his apron. It’s been months since he’s set eyes on the man, even on the TV. After the crew wrapped up and left, Dean didn’t have the nerve to watch the show again, especially when their episode was broadcast (Sam informed Dean that he was painted as “kind of a jerk, but a sympathetic one”). His heart twists in his chest as Cas turns and gives him a polite smile.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. He stands in the center of the room awkwardly, uncharacteristically dressed in a t-shirt and jeans.

“What are you doing here?” It’s the one question he can’t seem to wrap his mind around, followed closely by “What the Hell, Man?”

“I wanted to come and see how the bakery was doing,” Cas offers, eyes flicking around the room, settling anywhere but on Dean, “I… I really love what you’ve done with the place.” The walls now hold vintage lithographs of various muscle cars and the ecru paint highlights the dark wainscotting and rough-hewn wood counter. Industrial-style lamps hang over half a dozen cafe tables and the farm style chairs have been replaced with tufted stools. The whole place has the kind of lived in warm energy that most chain coffeehouses strive for. Castiel stops when he comes to a familiar chrome table and smiles. The formica has been covered with plexiglass and cut pieces of old roadmaps have been sandwiched in between. It’s a clever spin on the Americana-feel of the table’s original design. Cas looks up at Dean, but his smiles falters as he is met with a stony gaze.

“I see” Dean says, crossing his arms over his chest, “I thought you guys do that after 6 months?” Castiel frowns apologetically.

“Dean, I-”

“If we’re going to talk, can we not do it in the middle of my shop?” Dean asks, glancing at the line of people forming behind Cas and mustering as much composure as he can manage. Cas nods briefly.

“Should we go outside?”

“Sure,” Dean says. He turns on his heel and waves Castiel through the back, Kevin, Ash and Alex stop what they’re doing and watch them cross through the kitchen.

“One of you needs to be at the front!” Dean demands as he pushes through the back door.

“Where’s Sam?” Cas asks, only just noticing the lack of the other Winchester.

“He and Jess are taking a well-deserved vacation,” Dean offers, pulling out a stray folding chair, sitting backward on it and staring up at Cas. “Well? You were saying?” Cas takes a deep breath.

“Dean, I-”

“No!” Dean abruptly jumps to his feet, “No! You know what? I’m going to talk first!” Cas steps back as Dean begins pacing back and forth.

“I don’t get you, man!” He shouts at Cas, “One day you’re an asshole, the next you’re not. You say you say one thing and do another. You’re hot and you’re cold. What the hell is your problem!” It feels cathartic to finally yell at Cas, after months of racking his brain over the situation.

“I know,” Cas answers softly, “And you deserve a-”

“I mean, it’s not like I would’ve demanded you stay or anything.” Dean continues, “If you wanted a one night stand, that’s fine. But no explanation at all? Just leaving me hanging??” Dean takes a step forward, getting in Cas’ face.

“Dean-”

“A phone call! A text! a post-it note!” Dean lists off dramatically, “Anything would’ve been fine!”

“I couldn’t!” Cas finally spits out.

“Why?” Dean laughs sarcastically, “Someone holding a gun to your head?”

“I was in the Amazon!” Cas yells.

Dean’s face twists in confusion. “What?”

“I’ve been taping this special for National Geographic,” Cas replies, waving his hand in the air, “Been in Brazil for the better part of the month, completely off the grid.” Dean frowns. Cas does look tanner than he was previously, but that still leaves some questions.

“What about the two months before that?” He asks sarcastically. Cas’ whole body slumps and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he admits, “I was embarrassed and felt like a jerk and by the time I got up the courage to come talk to you… I was in the middle of South America.” Cas looks up at Dean and his expression is so forlorn that Dean feels much of his anger evaporating. He falls back into the folding chair and rubs at his eyes.

“Dean, I’m sorry.” Cas says sincerely.

“You know, this is on me,” Dean sighs. “I should’ve known better. A big, famous guy like you, this kind of thing happens all the time. What is it? You’ve got a piece of strange in every city and a boyfriend waiting back home?” Cas’ face hardens in indignation.

“No, of course not!” He huffs, brows furrowed, “I don’t sleep with random people, Dean! Is that the kind of guy you think I am?!”

“Well, you fell into bed with me pretty quick,” Dean counters, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, because I liked you!” Cas exclaims, frowning, “I still do in fact! You’re funny, and passionate, and… so hot.” Cas pauses, embarrassed by his own admission, “It’s hard not to like you!” Dean snorts bashfully and focuses his attention on his cuticles.

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Dean sighs wryly. Cas reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and kneels down so that he’s eye-to-eye with Dean.

“Well, let me make it up to you then,” Cas says, handing a folded piece of paper to Dean. Confused, Dean takes it, unfolding it to reveal a check for $20,000.

“What is this?” Dean mumbles.

“It’s an investment,” Cas answers. Dean’s face tightens angrily.

“Are you trying to pay me off?” He hisses.

“No! I want to invest in you, in the Bakery, Winchester and Sons” Cas exclaims, rising to his feet throwing his arms wide.

“You’re kidding me?” Dean says, incredulous, “Cas, if you’re doing this because you feel guilty…?”

“This has nothing to do with me feeling guilty!” Cas snaps, earning a doubtful look from Dean. “It honestly doesn’t! I like this place, I have a lot of faith in it. You took my advice even when you didn’t have to and even improved on it.” Dean shrugs shyly.

“Yeah, sure… It was okay,” Dean mumbles.

“How much has business increased? 8? 9 percent?” Cas asks.

“11,” Dean answers with a small, proud smirk.

“If you could do all of that with $5,000,” Castiel gestures toward the kitchen door, “I would love to see what you’d do with four times that!” Dean glances up at Cas and bites his lip.

“I don’t know, Cas…” Dean trails off.

“... and if I have to be in Chicago more often to… check on my investment, or maybe,” Cas swallows nervously, “Take the owner to dinner for a progress report.” Dean quirks his lips, trying not to laugh at Cas’ awkward attempt at flirting. He stands up and looks Cas straight in the eye.

“Well, I’m sure Sam would appreciate the invitation,” Dean jokes. Cas gives him an exasperated eye-roll as Dean grasps his fist in the fabric of Cas’ shirt and closes the distance between them.

Cas’s mouth is just as he remembers, delicious and soft and opening willingly for Dean. Cas’ hands wind around his neck and it’s all the encouragement Dean needs to respond the same, sliding his fingers down over Cas’ sides and pulling him flush against Dean.

They stand there behind the bakery, lost in each other, until the sound of a cough breaks them apart. Dean turns to see Kevin peaking out the backdoor.

“Uh, Dean… There’s a lady on the phone who wants to order for 6 dozen key-lime cookies by tonight. Do you want to talk to her?” Dean sighs heavily and nods. Kevin ducks back into the kitchen, and as he walks away Dean reaches out for Castiel’s hand.

“C’mon, Mr. Investor,” Dean says playfully, pulling Cas into the kitchen after him.

The End