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“Holy fuck.” Dean moaned. “So fucking good. God. It keeps getting better, fuck.”
“Dean, could you shut up for five seconds?” Sam sighed.
Dean took another bite. “Nope.”
“You’re so annoying.” Sam said, wrinkling his nose. “At least keep it down a little, I’m trying to work.”
“Hey, I’m working too,” Dean protested. “I’m trying new recipes for the shop. I gotta say that this one is a hit. Take a break from your nerd work and help me out.”
“What are they?” Sam asked, and Dean smirked to himself.
“Shortbread sandwich biscuits. They have jam.”
“Blackberry or raspberry?”
“I made half and half.”
“Ugh, how am I supposed to stay healthy with you baking all this stuff all the time.” Sam groaned. He held out a hand and Dean happily handed him a couple biscuits.
Dean watched as Sam took a bite, then asked, “Any good?”
“Awfsum.” Sam replied, voice muffled. He chewed and cleared his throat. “Sorry, awesome .”
“Glad you liked them.” Dean smiled at his brother. “I’m going to start selling them tomorrow.”
“The customers will love themt.”
“Of course they will.” Dean replied.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Alright, Mr. Hotshot. Let me finish my homework now.”
“Have fun, nerd.” Dean said. He moved back to the kitchen. The recipe could use a little more tweaking before Dean started selling them in the morning.
* * * * *
The biscuits were an absolute hit at Dean’s bakery and he couldn’t be prouder, especially since they were his favorite things to bake (after pies, of course). Shortbread biscuits weren’t the most challenging of bakes, but Dean enjoyed how particular he had to be when cutting out their shapes so that the sandwich biscuits would look even and tasty.
“People love the biscuits, Cher.” Benny’s soft drawl commented.
Dean flashed him a winning grin. “Of course. I do make the best biscuits, after all.”
“I don’t mean to intrude on your conversation, but I have to disagree with you.”
Dean whirled around, frowning. “Excuse me?”
There was a man across the counter with messy, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Under other circumstances, Dean would have totally hit on him, but right now Dean wasn’t so sure. Apparently this guy didn’t like his biscuits, which probably meant he was a crazy psychopath.
“I don’t mean to offend you, but I disagree. I don’t think your biscuits are the best.” The man said, his expression impassive and tone blunt.
Dean crossed his arms and glared. “Oh yeah? Who makes the best, huh?”
The man gave a smug smile, his first sign of emotion. “Well, I do.”
“You do?” Dean repeated, incredulous. “Not a chance in hell, man. No offence.”
“No, I assure you that my biscuits are the best.” The man said. Stubborn fucker.
“Listen, buddy, I don’t like to argue with paying customers, but I gotta put my foot down on this one.” Dean said. His own stubbornness might have had something to do with the fact that he’d adapted his own shortbread biscuit recipe from Mary’s. Her recipe book had been saved from the fire only because Ellen had been borrowing it.
“I suppose we will just have to disagree.” The man said levely.
“You guys could have a contest.” Charlie suggested, popping up next to Dean’s side. “I was eavesdropping and I won’t apologize for it.”
“Contest?” Dean asked.
“Yeah. You can make some of your biscuits and have Castiel make his biscuits. Then you can bring them here and have people compare.”
“Castiel?”
“That would be me.” The man said. He stretched a hand across the counter.
Dean eyed Cas’s hand a second, then gripped it firmly and gave it a shake. “Dean. You down to have a contest?”
“If that’s what it takes to convince you that my biscuits are the best.” Castiel replied.
Dean let out a sharp laugh. “Keep dreaming, Cas. I’ll show you.”
“We’ll see.” Cas hummed. “I need to get going now, but when would you like to meet for our contest?”
“Saturday, 2 PM.” Dean said.
Castiel nodded. “Works for me. See you later, Dean.”
“See you, dude.”
Dean watched him go and huffed softly to himself.
“Wow.” Charlie said. “The sexual tension was almost unbearable.”
Dean spun to face her. “What? Sexual tension?!”
“Yeah, totally.”
“That guy was so annoying!” Dean spluttered. “What the hell, Charlie?”
“Oh, please.” Charlie said. “You guys were totally staring into each other’s eyes and mentally fucking each other.”
Dean gaped.
“Saturday’s going to be even worse with you two competing.” Charlie said.
“Shut up, Charlie. Was he hot? Yes, obviously. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Come on, Winchester. You gotta admit you like that he riles you up.”
“Did seem pretty intense to me too, Cher.” Benny added.
“This conversation is done and I hate both of you.” Dean said. “Charlie, how did you even know his name?”
“He ordered right before you scared him off.” Charlie answered. “One latte and one blueberry muffin.”
Dean could practically feel his eyes bulging out of his head. “He didn’t even try my biscuits?!”
“He must be really confident.” Charlie mused. “I bet you meet your match.”
“Like hell.” Dean grumbled.
He was going to make the best damn biscuits ever.
* * * * *
Dean practiced his biscuits all week. He made so many that his friends stopped taking them because they couldn’t eat them fast enough, so Dean had to get creative with getting rid of them. He got the recipe down perfectly and had it memorized by Thursday evening. Friday was spent trying out new things to see if they enhanced the biscuits or jam and anymore.
By Saturday, Dean was ready.
He started on the biscuits around eleven thirty to give himself plenty of shape and make them absolutely perfect and he finished with some time to spare.
Dean waited for Cas to show up. He wondered if the guy had chickened out and had decided not to come. Dean would be disappointed if Cas didn’t show up (only because Dean was really looking forward to winning, not because Cas was stupidly attractive and Dean wanted to see his stupidly attractive face again).
Cas showed up at two exactly, looking calm and collected. God, Dean wanted to kiss him - No, punch him! Dean wanted to punch him, of course.
Castiel was carrying a basket with a cloth draped over it.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Cas.” Dean grumbled. “Ready to lose to the superior biscuit?”
“Are you?”
“Alrighty, boys.” Charlie said. “Show us the goods.”
Dean sent her a look and Charlie gestured at Cas’s basket. Cas lifted his basket and placed it down on the counter and Dean went into the back.
He took a breath to steady his heart, then picked up his tray of biscuits and went back out. He put the tray down next to Cas’s basket. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin, then he took in Cas’s expression.
The other man was staring at Dean’s biscuits with wide eyes.
“What?” Dean demanded. “Better than you expected?”
“Not quite.” Cas said slowly. He met Dean’s gaze, looking sheepish and vaguely amused. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Dean lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I made my best biscuits.” Cas said.
He lifted the cloth off of the basket, revealing twelve perfectly made biscuits next to a container of gravy.
Oh.
“You meant bread biscuits?”
“Of course,” Cas replied, a little defensively. “We’re in the United States, why would I think you were talking about any other type of biscuit?”
“Because I don’t sell bread biscuits! I only sell the other kind!”
“Well, I didn’t realize that. I didn’t see what type of biscuits you were selling, I only overheard you saying you made the best.”
Dean stared. Cas stared back.
“God, we’re idiots.”
Castiel smiled. “I guess we are.”
Dean dropped his head and laughed. “I can’t believe I got so worked up about that.”
“I did too.” Castiel admitted, also chuckling. “Ask any of my friends, they’re tired of my biscuits.”
“Same here.” Dean said. He waited a moment, then added. “Is it okay if I try one of yours? They look really good.”
“Of course, Dean, but only if I can try some of yours.”
“Yeah, sure, dude.”
Dean exchanged his biscuits with Cas’s and took a bite.
“Fuck.” Dean moaned. “You weren’t kidding, these are the best bread biscuits I’ve ever had.”
“And your biscuits are amazing, too.” Castiel said, eyes closed. “I guess this means that we’re both right.”
“I guess so.” Dean shrugged. He stuffed his mouth some more.
“That was anticlimactic.” Charlie said. “I give a thumbs down on this plot twist.”
“Shut up, Charlie.” Dean said. “Try one of Cas’s biscuits, they’re really good.”
Charlie and Benny both took some of Cas’s biscuits and enjoyed them very much. It was cute to see Cas blush at the compliments.
They spent some time quietly eating and chatting, bonding over their mutual idiocy, when Cas looked Dean straight in the eye.
“I’ve been coming here every day for a month now, and I’ve never built up the courage to ask you out. I’d like to do that now. Would you like to go out sometime?”
Dean felt himself flush. He glowered at Charlie and Benny when they started teasing him.
“Yeah,” Dean’s voice cracked and he cleared it, flushing further, “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.”
Cas beamed at him and held out a hand. “May I have your phone to put my number in?”
“Oh, sure.” Dean fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and hand it over to Cas. “Can I have your phone?”
Castiel handed him his phone and Dean quickly entered his number.
They traded phones again.
“Cool.” Dean mumbled, staring down at the counter. “When do you want to go?”
“Maybe tomorrow afternoon?” Cas suggested.
“Works for me.” Dean said.
“Excellent.” Castiel said, sounding pleased. “Now, I need to have more biscuits.”
“‘Course, dude. And I can bake you something more for tomorrow.”
Cas grinned at him. “I’d like that, but only if I can bake for you too.”
“Perfect.”