Dean takes the job at Gabrielâs Bakery to help put Sam through college. Sam gets a full ride though so when Dean keeps the job at Gabrielâs Bakery itâs for the cute blue-eyed employee.
Castiel Milton comes into the shop around four am to prepare pastries and the likes. He leaves after the morning rush, entrusting the shop to Anna, only an hour or so after busboy Dean clocks in. This gives Dean sixty minutes of ogling.
Sixty minutes. Five times a week. For months.
Itâs mid afternoon and Dean heads out back to receive the supply van they get on Wednesdays, escaping Annaâs voice yelling into a telephone. Alphieâs calling out again.
Dean unloads the van with the driverâs help- âUntil next week brother,â Benny tells him, like always- then starts moving crates from the dock and into the storage room of the small shop. Itâs manual labour (and Dean learned two weeks in that lifting with your knees is no joke) but Dean likes it. He likes that he gets a little sweaty and he likes that heâs always just a little sore after work.
He also likes to be efficient, or his backward definition of the word anyway, which is why he often ends up carrying way too many things all at once. Heâs on his tenth trek back inside with a crate of apples kept stable on a shoulder with one arm. He hugs a bag of flour to his chest with the other, a massive sack of walnuts hanging from the crook of that elbow.
Itâs all a bit much and he wouldnât mind struggling along but then Castiel appears. Dean stops in the frame of the door, cool air at his back and facing the warmth of a bakery kitchen.
âYouâre done for the day,â Dean says almost accusatorily like this isnât Casâ familyâs shop.
âAlphie,â Cas offers by way of explanation. âWould you like some help?â
Dean isnât sure but he thinks Casâ eyes trailing up and down his body are assessing more than the disposition heâs gotten himself into.
âEuh⌠Yeah sure. Can you take my flour?â
âIf youâre offering,â Cas says stepping up into Deanâs personal space. âBut Iâd like to take my time with that so after closing, maybe.â Cas takes the bag of flour. âIâll leave you to handle the nuts for now.â
An hour before Deanâs shift ends, long enough after the afternoon rush that there are only a few patrons in the seating area, Dean walks up to the cash register Cas is manning.
âDid you mean it?â Dean blurts because if he doesnât blurt it heâll never get the words out.
Cas raises a brow and takes his time to answer. âI did.â
Dean doesnât pause and rushes through the next part he had planned albeit clumsily. âIâm not- I donât have a- Iâm no blushing virgin.â
âYouâre definitely blushing, Dean.â
Dean proceeds to blush more with his mouth hanging open for a moment.
âI didnât think you would be,â Cas continues.
âAre you calling me a slut?â
âIâm calling you handsome.â
âMe too. I mean- I- Iâm attracted to you.â And then: âToo.â
When his shift ends Dean goes home. He takes a shower but still ends up smelling like pie and icing, puts on a nice shirt- okay a nicer shirt than the ratty band teeâs heâs used to which isnât saying much- and spends no more than five minutes on his hair (he spends an hour, he spends an hour on his hair) before going back to the bakery to meet with Castiel after closing.
That night neither fucks the other but they do argue about whose car to take, settle on walking to the pier, eat hot dogs by the railing and talk through the night. Mostly about family. Cas has a million and one siblings which keeps him going for a long while, but Dean doesnât mind listening (he loves it actually) and itâs not like he canât talk about Sammy forever.
At some point, Cas tells Dean that he looks nice and Dean looks away when he says thank you.
They knock shoulders and bump knees and at the very end of the night, in a fit of customary nerves, Dean punches Cas in the face abruptly. Only, itâs with his lips and it feels like a kiss.
Read it (and more!) on ao3
I am attempting to do a drabble a day for this entire week.
Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.
