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The air was still thick with darkness when Cas unlocked the door to Pages & Pies and the dulled scent of yesterday’s apple crisp hit his nose. He smiled to himself as he shut the door behind him and relied on muscle memory alone to make it up the creaking stairs to the bookstore on the second floor. Why they’d placed the light switch up there, he’d never know.
Pale light illuminated the room as his nose adjusted from the smell of leftover pies to the musky, woodsy aroma of books older than the building itself. He set his bag down behind the counter and flipped on the small screen that showed him the bakery on the bottom floor.
It still seemed like a dream despite the fact that he’d bought the building five years prior, and no matter how many times he descended those stairs to turn on the ovens, it felt like the first time.
Cas hummed a quiet little tune to himself as he dressed the desserts and set them out in the display cases. The sun was now shining through the large glass window and casting the dust on the floor into sharp relief. Times like that, Cas wished he’d have hired someone else to help him out… but the little bookstore café was his life, and he never quite found the right fit.
Beyond the few regular customers he had in the early hours, not many people visited his little shop. It allowed him time to get lost in the bookshelves and immerse himself in pages of other people’s lives. Every day was an adventure, he just… occasionally wished he would have his own.
Sometime around mid-afternoon, he found himself in the middle of an old favorite when the bells attached to the front door jingled. Instead of getting up, Cas leaned back on his seat to check the surveillance feed - more often than not, people would wander in from the street to get away from the heat long enough to make a phone call and would wander right back out. Cas meant no offense, but he wasn’t going to put Jack Kerouac down to effectively eavesdrop on what would surely amount to a boring conversation.
But what he saw made him pause, frozen with the barstool precariously balanced on two legs. The feed was greyscale and grainy, but the man was… exquisite; chiseled like the descriptions of Greek gods and perfect heroes from the books he so desperately loved. He can’t be real.
Cas tipped forward and the metal pegs smacked loudly against the tile below him, startling him to the point his entire body jolted with adrenaline. Thankful that the man was still on the lower floor, Cas cleared his throat and attempted to compose himself, even as the sound of heavy boots stomping on the old stairs reached his ears.
“Hello? Pagemaster, I come for an adventure.” The man rounded the top of the staircase and froze. “Sorry, it echoed and I thought I was alone.”
One look at the man with his dark sunglasses and tanned arms had On the Road clattering from Cas’ grip and settling haphazardly between his feet. “Um… you ain’t got the… spine for it.” He cursed himself for the knee-jerk reaction with a movie quote that didn’t quite fit and stood up, alarmingly shaky on his feet. “Sorry, I should start over. Welcome to Pages and Pies, would you like an adventure of the taste buds, or the mind?”
He pulled off his glasses and regarded Cas a moment before speaking. “I don’t wear sunglasses inside, I’m not a douchebag, promise.” He paused, his eyes roving over Cas’ face in a way that made him squirm. “And uh... both? I am looking for a book, but you had me at pies. Are you also a taste... master?” A grin spread across his beautiful face as he bit back a laugh at his own joke.
Exquisite. “I’m a master of a lot of things, or… at least I like to tell myself that.” Cas stepped around the counter separating them and tentatively inched closer, raising a surprisingly steady hand toward the shelves behind the customer. Now that he was close, the natural light filtering into the room reflected in the man’s eyes and reminded him of a thousand sunlit forests, but likely nothing that would be found on Earth. No, no… those eyes belong in a book. Belatedly, he realized he was standing open-mouthed with his fingers still hovering mid-air. He pulled back, brushing a stray lock of wild hair back from his face, and once more tried to wrestle himself back into composition. “The books are that way.” Oh, that was articulate.
“I’m Dean.” The man held out his hand, keeping eye contact for longer than should have been appropriate, but Cas wasn’t complaining. The moment their hands slid together, Cas sucked in a breath.
Get ahold of yourself, Castiel. He’s just a customer, and this isn’t a fairy tale. “I’m Castiel, though… most people just call me Cas.” Seconds passed and neither let go, but the neurons in Castiel’s brain finally quit misfiring and he found himself on more solid ground. He released his grip on that strong, calloused hand and strode toward the books that would be his salvation. No one knows more about these books than I do, this is where I shine. “Which book were you searching for?”
“It’s uh...” He scratched the back of his head. “Shit, I can’t remember the author... Behold the Dreamers? Imbolo...? Shit, I’m sorry. I should have got it last week and I forgot, and now Sam is freakin’ out on me about it.”
Cas let a smile work its way across his nervous features and switched directions, despite the wave of disappointment that washed over him. Sam is probably his girlfriend, or… boyfriend. I know better than to get my hopes up, and yet… it happens every time. “You’re correct, the book you’re looking for is by Imbolo Mbue. If I remember correctly… It involves two families in New York City during the financial crisis of 2008. Hold on a moment.” He stopped in front of the last shelf and let his fingertips dance across the spines. “Ah, here it is. It’s the only copy I’ve got.” Cas dipped the pad of his finger into the crease behind the binding and plucked the book from its home, turning to face Dean. “You’re lucky not many people seem to be looking for this sort of thing anymore. I think your... Sam will be pleased.” There, it’s enough to prompt him but not enough to admit I’m jumping to conclusions.
“Awesome!” Dean looked it over and sniffed the pages. “I like the way books smell, I just never read ‘em. It was always more Sammy’s thing.” He shrugged and made the most adorable, excited face Cas had seen in quite some time. “Pie?”
That did nothing to answer his unspoken question, and he deflated slightly - if such a thing were possible while standing in the presence of someone like Dean. “You actually passed the pies on the way up. Did you want to rent the book, or purchase it? I give both options here.”
“Uh.. I’ll just buy it for him. The fall semester is about to start soon, and he made this nerdy goal to read the top 15 college recommended books before summer ended.” He paused. “Not that nerdy things are bad... I just meant... My brother is a nerd. Not like it’s bad... ima shut up now. Pie?”
Whether his body showed the signs or not, relief flooded through him and he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I didn’t take offense, don’t worry. Come on.” He led Dean back down the stairs and circled behind the counter to grab his apron. He felt silly putting it on, especially in front of personified art such as Dean... but guidelines might as well have been rules as far as he was concerned. “I have pecan and cherry today, which would you prefer?”
“Cherry. A whole one?” He gallic shrugged and smiled. “I love pie.”
Cas bent down to check his stock and realized he only had half of one left thanks to one of his morning regulars gearing up for a long day in meetings. He searched for a plate but realized he didn’t have one big enough, and threw etiquette to the wind by setting the pan down in front of Dean and handing him a fork. “You’ll have to blame Mr. LaFitte for the half that’s missing, but cherry is normally my best-seller so I make one nearly every morning.”
“Who, Benny? Asshatt.” Dean cradled the fork and took a bite, and the resulting moan the vibrated out of him had to be illegal. “So... good,” he mumbled with his mouth full.
Sure he must’ve misunderstood, Cas blinked. “You know Benny? He’s been coming in here virtually every day since I opened the doors for the first time.”
Dean chewed slowly, the muscles in his jaw flexing beautifully as he tilted his head. “I’ve had your pie before. He brought it to a meeting one time and I devoured it. I’m eating this whole thing, just know that.” He took another bite, this one large enough that crumbs spilled out of his mouth and back into the pan.
Instead of being grossed out, Cas was fascinated. How something so crude could appear so endearing was beyond him, but he suddenly found himself wanting to spend hours studying that particular mystery. “I won’t stop you, I close in about an hour and I highly doubt anyone else will come for it. If you like it now, you should try it when it’s fresh out of the oven.”
“Maybe I will.” Dean flashed brilliantly white, straight teeth and then set the fork down, licking his sinful lips before speaking. “You here all by yourself every day?”
Cas dipped his chin in affirmation as he took the apron off again. “Yes. I’ve had a couple of people try to apply over the years, but… it never worked out. It’s kind of nice. I make my own hours and spend my free time here either baking or reading. How long have you worked with Benny?”
“Like a year or so? We go back.” Dean waved his hand flippantly and started eating again. “What about a shop puppy? He can keep you company.”
The thought sent warmth blossoming through his chest, until he remembered where he was. “As nice as that sounds, I don’t have the ability to make sure he doesn’t ingest a dozen chocolate cupcakes. I’d be better off with a cat, though I find the entire species untrustworthy.”
“Go figure, cats walk around like they know a secret they’ll never tell you. Got any water?”
Cas bit his bottom lip as he turned to retrieve a glass and filled it with filtered water, then braced his elbows on the countertop next to Dean after setting it down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone eat so much pie.”
“That’s a compliment.” Dean drank half the glass and set it down with a clank. “It’s the best pie ever. Not exaggerating.”
It felt a little like his stomach plummeted from a prologue to a final chapter, and the flush across his cheeks was surely noticeable that time. “Thank you, Dean. That’s very kind of you. If I’d have known you were coming…” He trailed off, letting his gravelly voice rumble to a stop the way his heart was trying to do.
“Then... I should get your number.” Dean’s eyes flicked to Cas’ lips, and he smirked so slightly it was teasing. “Unless your significant other... wouldn’t appreciate that.”
Cas vehemently shook his head, fumbling under the counter for a pad of paper and a pen. “They’d have to exist in order to have an opinion about such a thing.” He huffed a deep, calming breath and tried to remember what his own phone number was. Usually, he gave out the number for Pages & Pies when customers asked, but this… this was different. Damnit, is it 4 3, or 3 4? He bit his tongue impatiently and scribbled the number down. “Feel free to call me anytime you want… pie.”
“Or books...” Dean licked his lips slowly and checked Cas out. “Or dinner tonight.”
What started out as a shy simper quickly spread to something he couldn’t quite contain. “Are you asking me out on an adventure, Dean?”
“Yup.” He accentuated the ‘p’ and grinned widely. “If that’s alright with you.”
All Cas could do was nod. Maybe this is a fairy tale. “Yes, Dean. That’s quite alright with me.”