Work Text:
Dean never used to take lunch.
He'd eat, sure – the latest Men's Health had assured him that skipping meals actually made it harder to lose weight – but something like a salad at his desk while he worked, a protein bar or shake maybe. It wasn't like he had time to idle around in the break room or go anywhere. And anyway, that would mean temptation to stray from his diet that he just didn't need.
Until a routine business lunch one day took him to Heaven on Earth Bistro.
Sure, the food was mediocre, the décor was sickeningly cutesy and tacky, and all in all, Dean would never get caught dead in a place like this by choice.
Except.
Except for one certain waiter that always seemed to get Dean's table. Except for blue eyes, messy hair and slim hips, plush pink lips and lightly tanned skin that looked like it would be so soft under his palms.
Except for Castiel.
Those sweet little smiles and bashful blushes did him in the first day, and Dean was helpless against it. Who cared that their salad selection was terrible? The turkey sandwich was, he had reasoned, a pretty healthy choice anyway, and it was worth adding an extra couple miles on the treadmill if he got to see those gorgeous fucking eyes a few times a week.
“Mr. Smith, sir? Are you ready to order?”
Dean smiled up at him and handed him the menu. “Same as last week, Cas,” he said. “And I keep telling you, call me Dean.”
Castiel just blushed and bit his lip against a smile. “Yes, sir.”
Dean didn't even try to stop himself from turning around in his seat just enough to watch Castiel go. He was sure he wasn't imagining the extra little sway Castiel put in his hips when he was serving Dean. He certainly didn't do that for everyone.
Because, okay, maybe Dean liked to watch him when he was serving the other customers too. It wasn't exactly Dean's crowd, of course, mostly little old ladies and college kids, sometimes a mom and her kids here for the cupcakes.
And if he'd wanted the kid the first time he saw him, he had reluctantly realized that the more he watched Castiel interact with people the more he liked him. His blushing, flustered smiles were all for Dean – but God, Dean loved the sweet, friendly smiles he gave Mrs Moseley, how he laughed with the little kids and how patient and kind he was with everyone.
He looked up as Castiel came back around the corner, throwing a warm smile over his shoulder that was all for Dean even though he was heading to another table. At this point that smile did more to his heart than it did to his dick, and that was saying something. He was in way, way too deep here.
Dean blinked back into focus when he realized that Castiel was laughing with the customers a few tables down – but that wasn't his general friendly for-the-customers laugh. That was his flirty laugh. That was Dean's laugh.
The table was full of kids that had to be about Castiel's age – late teens, early 20s, probably just out of their first year of college or just about to start it when the summer ended. Hell, maybe even Castiel's classmates. Could be friends of his, really.
But the blonde guy with the spiky hair was leaning into Castiel's space, eyes predatory, and the protective part of Dean made him want to get up and go tell the asshole off for making Castiel uncomfortable until he realized Castiel wasn't exactly leaning away. He was relaxed and smiling, completely at ease.
Dean stared down at the table, wishing he'd brought his laptop with him this time to distract him. He always did at first, but found Castiel was more likely to stop and chat with him if it wasn't there, like Castiel was worried he'd be bothering Dean. And Dean couldn't exactly tell him that seeing him was actually the only reason he still came here.
God, he was a creep, wasn't he? Castiel was just a friendly waiter trying to get by, and Dean was just a guy who happened to give great tips if he played along and flirted back. That's all it had ever been. Dean was 30, after all, almost 10 years older than Castiel. How had Dean even convinced himself Castiel could be seriously interested in him?
He thanked Castiel quietly and without looking up when he stopped by with his sandwich, and took the receipt up to the counter to pay when he was done instead of waiting for Castiel himself to come by and take it. He didn't think he could stand looking at his face again, seeing that fond smile he'd come to love so much and realizing for a fact that it was fake after all.
Dean couldn't help leaving one last really nice tip, though, both as a sort of goodbye and a sort of apology. It wasn't Castiel's fault Dean was a lonely old creep. It wasn't Castiel's fault Dean had totally misinterpreted his friendliness for something more.
He hadn't made it more than a few steps out the door before Castiel burst out behind him, the $100 bill clutched in his hand.
“Dean!” He gasped. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
When Dean turned around he found his arms suddenly full of Castiel, soft and warm and sweet-smelling, as he threw his arms around Dean's neck. Dean froze before melting into it, letting himself have this just once. So maybe he held him a little longer than he should have. It's not like Castiel was letting go either.
When they finally broke apart Dean couldn't even say you're welcome like a normal guy. He couldn't say anything. He just smiled, squeezed Castiel's shoulder in a way he hoped said everything he couldn't, and walked back to work.
Dean was having a seriously hard time moving on. And it was ridiculous, because it wasn't like he'd had anything to lose here. He had a stupid little crush on a guy and he wasn't going to see him again and that was that.
But he couldn't stop thinking about him.
He added another mile of running four days a week, hoping to exhaust himself to the point where he didn't even have the energy to obsess about Castiel.
He tried a juice fast, trying to flush out the cravings for those goddamn sandwiches that came with those sweet smiles.
He had to talk himself out of going back at least a couple times a day. What would it hurt? He thought. He keeps getting nice tips to help him through college, you get to keep seeing him all the time. Nobody loses.
Yeah, right. Because it was just that easy. He'd just keep torturing himself, hanging around and watching Castiel flirt with other guys that were actually his age and feeling like the gross old man he was, pining away in the corner table by himself.
So no, he couldn't go back. Wasn't ever going to go back. He'd get over him, sooner or later. It'd just take some time.
Things had been going really well by the time Anna Milton called him up for another business lunch. He hadn't been to Heaven on Earth in over a month, and he hadn't quite stopped missing it but he'd stopped thinking about it every day, stopped putting his jacket on at lunch on autopilot before he remembered he wasn't going anywhere.
So of course she wanted to go there again.
“My cousin owns it,” she said brightly as they walked in. “Did I mention that last time? It's not quite my style, but it's charming, don't you think?”
Dean hummed distractedly in agreement. He glanced around the room, hoping for once, just for once Castiel wasn't working on a weekday.
The hostess seated them in a section on the far side of the bistro from where Dean usually sat. Even if Castiel was on today, this couldn't possibly be part of his section.
“It's normally much busier. This is nice, we'll be able to hear ourselves think this time,” Anna said with a smile. Dean smiled weakly back.
Fucking hell, Smith, pull yourself together, he thought. He won't even be here. It'll be fine. Just get through this one lunch –
“Hi, welcome to Heaven on Earth, I'll be your server today.”
Shit.
When Dean looked up, Castiel's eyes were on Anna. He even handed both of their menus to her, leaving her to confusedly pass one to Dean.
“Drinks to start with?”
“Oh, I'll just have iced tea, please. With lemon?”
Castiel smiled warmly at her. “Of course.”
“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat. “Diet Coke, please.”
“Right away,” Castiel said, scribbling it on his notepad unnecessarily without even looking up at Dean, then sped off like he'd been bitten. Not even that stupid 'sir' he always insisted on.
Dean forced himself to focus on the topic at hand as he and Anna got down to talking about work. It was refreshing in a way, discussing something where he knew exactly what he was talking about and where he stood. It helped to focus on something, anything at all except God, he's just as beautiful as I remembered.
When Castiel returned he set both drinks down in front of Anna, who narrowed her eyes at him strangely for a moment before handing Dean's to him.
“Are we ready to order?”
“Mm, yes, I'd like the vegan stir fry, please,” Anna said. Castiel smiled again and nodded, finally reluctantly turning to Dean. Dean winced when they made eye contact and found Castiel's face blank and cold, totally closed off.
“And for you?”
So he was just going to pretend he didn't even know him. Like he hadn't taken the same exact order from Dean at least once a week for three months.
“Turkey panini, please,” Dean said softly, like somehow it was an apology.
Castiel yanked the menu out of his hand, took Anna's more gently, and walked off to the next table without replying again.
“Goodness,” Anna said, peering after him. “That was a little rude, don't you think?”
“He's probably just having a bad day,” Dean mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. He choked immediately, just barely holding back from spitting it right in Anna's face.
That was definitely not diet. The heady, thick sweetness of corn syrup, after not having had a regular soda in over a year now, was overpowering.
“Dean? Are you okay?” Anna asked, brow furrowed.
“Fine,” he rasped. “Just went down wrong.”
Over her shoulder he could see Castiel watching him. He tried to smile, tried to show he wasn't mad. Castiel only scowled harder.
When their food finally came, Dean was already expecting him to ask Anna if she needed anything else and ignore him. He wasn't expecting Castiel to set down a plate in front of him with what was very clearly not a turkey panini.
Apparently Castiel did remember the day he'd laughed and teased Dean for his unreasonable hatred of rye, and especially of pastrami on rye, which was Castiel's favorite.
Once Castiel left, Anna caught sight of his plate and stared. “Dean, why didn't you say anything? That's not remotely what you ordered.”
He shrugged. “It's fine. I'm sure it was an honest mistake.”
“No, this is ridiculous. He's been rude to you this whole time and now he got your entire order wrong. Did you catch his name? I think I need to talk to my cousin about this.”
“No, no,” Dean said. “It's fine, really. I'm sure he's just having a bad day. Let's just forget it, okay? Anyway, you were saying...?”
Anna pursed her lips in disagreement, but allowed Dean to distract her back into the conversation. He forced himself to eat, slowly chewing each disgusting bite like a penance, like if he got this down it'd somehow prove to Castiel how sorry he was.
When they were finally done, Castiel brought them each their checks. Dean couldn't bring himself to be too surprised that he'd overcharged him for his meal.
Shit, he'd really ruined everything, hadn't he? Nevermind any attraction that might or might not have been there, he'd ruined whatever friendship they'd been building, one that had apparently meant something to Castiel if he was this angry about it a month later.
He would just take the receipt up to the counter to pay, not drawing attention to the mistake. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Castiel more by getting him in trouble.
He definitely didn't plan on coming back again. This was a huge mistake. There had to be a way to convince Anna to go somewhere else next time.
But there was one last way he could apologize, even if it wouldn't get him anywhere. He left another $100 bill tucked under the rim of his plate. He thought about leaving a note, somehow – scribbling a sorry on the end of his receipt and tearing it off, writing it on a fucking napkin, whatever – but the way Castiel looked at him as they got up, the hatred on his face, Dean knew it wouldn't do any good.
Anna stopped and turned around as they stepped out into the parking lot.
“Honestly, Dean, that boy's behavior was inexcusable. I have to talk to my cousin about him.”
“Anna, please, don't,” Dean said. “It's fine.
“This is my family's business he's representing here, you know.”
“Anna, look. I'm – okay, it wasn't great service. But I've been back here by myself since we came here last, and I...” Well, what he was about to say wasn't a lie, exactly, even if it wasn't quite the truth. “I may have been kind of a jerk to him.”
Anna's eyes widened. “You?”
He shrugged and forced a laugh. “Even I have bad days. Everyone does.”
She frowned. “That doesn't mean it was right to treat you like that. This is his job, and he has to be a professional about it. Everyone has to work with people they don't like sometimes.”
“I know, I know,” Dean said. “But he's a great kid, okay? I promise he is. You ask any of the regulars in that store and I promise they'll have nothing but good things to say about him. And he's putting himself through college with this job. Don't ruin his life over one bad meal, Anna. Please?”
The hard look on her face crumpled. “Oh, Dean,” she sighed. “Fine, if it means that much to you.”
He grinned in relief. “Thanks, Anna.”
She shook her head as she got into her car. “I still can't imagine what you possibly could have done to deserve that treatment. I can't even picture you being rude to someone.”
Dean shrugged. He certainly wasn't going to elaborate on it.
He waved as she drove off, checking his watch. He still had time to walk back instead of catching a taxi, if he hurried.
“Dean,” a soft voice said behind him.
He turned around, eyes wide, and found Castiel leaning against the side of the building, tucked behind a decorative column.
Dean just blinked. Now that Castiel was finally talking to him, he had no idea what to say.
Castiel huffed, pushing himself off the wall with his foot and stalking over to him. Just like before, the $100 bill was clutched in his hand. He looked maybe a little less happy about it this time.
“Why?” He said.
“Uh,” Dean tried. “Why what?”
“Why everything?” Castiel shouted. “Why'd you stop coming in? Why'd you do this again?” He held up the money and shook it at Dean. “Why'd you defend me and – and save my job like you care about me?”
“Of course I care about you,” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Somehow, his perfectly tailored suit felt suddenly like it fit all wrong.
“Then why'd you disappear? I thought you...I mean, I thought we were friends, Dean.”
Dean stared down at his feet. “I'm sorry.”
“Sorry isn't an answer,” Castiel said, voice breaking. Dean was horrified to find that there were tears in his eyes when he looked up.
“I – I know,” Dean said. “But you're going to hate me if I answer.”
“I'm gonna hate you more if you don't answer and just leave again.”
Dean bit his lip. Really, maybe it'd be nice to get it off his chest. Castiel might be upset, might be horrified, but at least he'd know, right? At least it wouldn't be Dean's dirty little secret anymore.
“I kind of, uh,” he swallowed hard. There was no way to say this without sounding like a middle-schooler, was there? “Liked you? Kind of a lot?”
“You...what?” Castiel said, staring back at Dean.
“Shit,” Dean sighed. “This is why I didn't want to tell you. I know, I know I'm too old and it's weird and that's why I stopped coming, okay? I didn't want to be the creepy old man flirting and making you uncomfortable, so I...stopped coming. I'm sorry.”
“You're an idiot,” Castiel hissed.
“Well, that's a little...”
“You're a fucking idiot because I liked you too,” Castiel growled. “I thought you liked me, I was just waiting for you to ask me out because I was so sure, and then you disappeared and I didn't even know what I did wrong.”
Dean just gaped.
There was no way. There was no way he had heard those words correctly. There was no way gorgeous, sweet little Castiel wanted Dean like he wanted him.
“Say something, dammit,” Castiel said, and he looked like he was on the verge of crying again.
“Um. I'm an idiot?” Dean tried weakly.
Castiel started to laugh and ended up sobbing. Dean was reaching out for him before he could stop himself, and Castiel took the invitation and fell into his arms. Castiel was just as warm and soft and perfect as he had been the last time they'd stood here.
“I'm sorry,” Dean murmured into his hair. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”
Castiel sighed and sniffled after a few minutes. “I got your suit wet,” he said into Dean's chest.
“I don't care,” Dean said. And strangely enough, he didn't. He couldn't care about anything right now except making Castiel feel better, making this right.
“I, um,” Castiel said, stepping back and out of Dean's arms, which suddenly felt very empty and cold. “I need to go back in before I do get in trouble. And you...you need to go back to work too.”
Dean nodded. “Wait,” he said as Castiel turned around to go. Castiel looked back at him curiously, something maybe like hope in his eyes. “I should have done this a month ago, probably. Or earlier. But, uh, do you think you...I mean, do you want...”
“I get off at six,” Castiel said with one last warm, happy smile before disappearing back into the building.
Dean couldn't keep the grin off his face the whole taxi ride back to work.