#dean bakes

AU: When everything is said and done apocalypse-wise and the smoke clears, Dean Winchester settles down and opens a bakery to lead the mundane life his brother wanted for him.

Things go exactly as planned which, looking back, really should have tipped Dean off.

Part I

The first time Dean sets his eyes on the tiny wreck of a house that looks like the only thing holding it up are dirt and the only slightly more stable-looking buildings on either side of it, he falls in love.

Well, perhaps not love.

But it’s been four weeks and three days since Dean has watched Sam walk into hell with a straight back and long, confident strides and not come back out again, and seeing this pathetic ruin of a house makes something in his chest flutter.

Dean, the sensible part of his mind says, sounding suspiciously, painfully, like Sam.

Shut up, Dean mutters because you left this is what you wanted, isn’t it how are you gonna stop me when you aren’t even here, damn it and signs the stupid lease.

*

It takes three weeks of hard work until Dean is confident that the roof won’t come down on him the moment the next storm hits and water comes out of every tap and the walls don’t look like there’s something living in them anymore.

Dean doesn’t complain though.

There is no one around to listen to him -- and so he keeps working until he’s too tired to think of that, until his muscles ache and his eyes feel too dry, until he feels ready to pass out on his shitty, threadbare mattress and sleep a solid four hours without interruption.

When he wakes up screaming, there’s a bottle of something or another close at hand, but safe for the really bad nights Dean mostly sticks to beer.

He’s about two weeks in when he decides to paint the walls a bright, ugly-as-fuck lime green that makes him think of Gabriel (after he drove to four different stores searching for the right shade of blue that he definitely didn’t want because it reminded him of Cas’ eyes -- fuck Cas anyways, Dean hasn’t heard a word from him since That Day) because he did not put all this work into his house just to paint it white or beige or one of those other, crappy not-colors.

It’s around that time that Dean realizes he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with this whole thing once it’s done.

A combination of hunger, the terrible realization that eating pie on your own sucks when you don’t have a prissy, little brother judging you from the sidelines,  and the startling fact that there is no bakery in this tiny town he some landed himself in make the decision for him.

Or maybe it’s just that Dean wakes up drenched in sweat and with a shout on his lips, eyes barely open because this was the third nightmare that night, and when he stands in the only coffeeshop that morning to order some freaking pie with his extra strong coffee and is told that they don’t have any pie, sorry sir, he tells the universe loudly “Fuck this bullshit, I’m gonna open a bakery.”

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have said that out loud. Thankfully, the college kid behind the counter who’s always obnoxiously chewing on some bubblegum took it with a shrug and a “Good for you.”

And that’s pretty much that.

*

Dean names it “The Bakery” because all his creative energy is spent on picking the color scheme for the interiors. In retrospect, he really shouldn’t have asked the bored but energetic sale’s assistant for help in that regard.

*

His first attempts in his new kitchen -- fixed up out of old shit he fixed, cheap secondhand sales Dean found online and a couple of high-quality utensils make for an interesting picture -- are a disaster.

Turns out just because you like something doesn’t mean you know how to make it yourself.

Dean’s apple pie is delicious though. And really, how big a menu does he need?

*

Three months, two weeks and five days after Sam left for hell, there’s a huge sign posted over the door of The Bakery.

OPEN

Angels, Demons and Hellhounds NOT Welcome

it reads.

 very short ficlet I wrote for lokilockprofoundbond 

When Cas peered into the kitchen, he found Dean blasting out Def Leppard while cutting some pastry crust. He was dancing around and singing along the radio the lyrics to ‘Pour Some sugar on me’ completely oblivious to the rest, a happy smile lighting his face. Cas stood there, silently contemplating Dean's precise hands movements and off-key singing, a warm feeling filling his chest. 

He was leaning on the door when Dean spotted him, his smile widening. "Hey, Cas, wanna help?" "Sure, but I'm not good at cooking" Dean smirked "Nothing complicated. Just pass me the sugar, will ya? Thanks" Cas went over the counter, grabbed the jar and handed it over to Dean. "What are you making?" "A blueberry pie. Pour me some sugar into the bowl with the blueberries, please." Cas did as he was told, and kept watching silently as dean skillfully assembled the crust into the pan. “Done. Berries, please.” He smiled at Cas, who felt his heart jump. It was a rare thing, to see Dean so carefree. He gave the berries a critical look “Did you put enough sugar?” “I wouldn’t know, Dean. I think so.” “Ok let’s, taste them” he grabbed a spoon and ate a mouthful of blueberries. “Mm-mh. Good.” Cas couldn’t stop looking. “Dean.” “What?” “Your lips are blue.” Dean chuckled “It’s the berries, Cas. Pass me the towel.” But Cas was like transfixed, and kept looking at Dean’s lips. And suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed him.