Chapter Text
"Three cranberry muffins for the lovely Edwards triplets." Castiel winks, handing the packeted goods to the blonde girl who’s next in the queue. She giggles and he takes the money from her and puts it in his pouch.
He runs a hand through his hair and moves on to the next customer.
"Hey, Clarence." Meg purrs, leaning over the stall.
He pastes a smile on for her. "Meg. What can I get you?"
She grins, something akin to a Chesire cat and something tells him she’s about to request something he definitely does not want to give her. "Cherry tart." She says, obviously changing her mind at the last minute.
He retrieves a packet and hands it to her. "One cherry tart for… my cherry tart." He smirks. He enjoys their banter. She insists on ensuring that their skin touches when she takes it and hands him the correct payment.
"See you later, Clarence." She walks away biting into her tart.
The snack shop he’s opened in the abandoned building on the far side of the school makes him a lot of money - especially when the school decided that they would be following a healthier menu. He saw a demand in the system and started his supply and now it’s more popular than ever.
The bell rings before he can move onto the next customer and the students begin filtering out. He has a free period next and he usually spends it cleaning up the mess, taking stock of what brings him the most money and generally closing up shop for the day.
"You know I could report you, right?" comes the voice that startles Castiel making him clutch the clipboard to his chest in defence.
It’s Dean Winchester. Student Council President. He’s just in a waistcoat today, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hands tucked into his black jeans pockets. His hair is mussed – the gel must be losing its hold, lips as pink as ever, and bottle green eyes taking in the room.
"Uh- this is not what it looks like, I swear, and-" Castiel tries because he's moved his "office" three times but Dean's always caught him out. He knows the game is lost when Dean looks at him pointedly and steps further into the room surveying the goods.
"Right, and I’m Freddie Mercury." He scoffs.
Castiel’s brows furrow.
"…I’m obviously not Fred- nevermind." Dean says and runs his fingertips over the surface of the empty desk. Castiel follows the movement. Then, he walks over to the table by the window which is stacked with sweet and savoury goods and takes them in. He picks up a plastic packet and tries to read its name. Castiel knows because he can see Dean’s lips moving, but there’s no sound coming out.
Castiel goes to stand by his side. "It’s called Bienenstich."
Dean thinks for a moment. "German?"
Castiel nods. "Also known as Bee Sting Cake." He takes the cake from Dean’s hands and puts it back where it belongs.
"See anything you’d like?" Castiel asks quietly, and he tries not say it in the flirty way like how he would with is customers, but it comes out exactly like that. Dean just turns his head to look at him, gaze flicking down to his lips and it definitely feels like Dean’s going to kiss him. Castiel notes that he wouldn’t mind right now.
"You got any pie?" Dean replies suddenly and loud enough that it breaks Castiel out of his reverie.
"O-of course." He replies, putting down his clipboard and walking over to another desk and reaching behind into one of the cardboard boxes. He pulls out six different varieties and Dean looks like it’s his birthday and Christmas rolled into one.
He picks one and takes off its wrapping – Castiel hands him a fork. He turns around and perches on the edge of the desk. Castiel comes to sit on the desk beside him, shoulders bumping.
Dean eats in silence for a while before he says, "You know, if you ever wanna kiss me, you don’t have to wait for me to be the first one to do it or anything."
Castiel didn’t think he was that obvious. He swings his legs.
Dean puts down the pie and turns to stand in the V of Castiel’s legs and rests his arms on Castiel’s shoulders.
"What would everyone say about the Student Council President dating the illegal snack vendor?" Castiel asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend’s jeans.
Dean shrugs. "Screw ‘em."
Castiel looks scandalized. "I most certainly hope not."
Dean laughs. "Not like that." He brings his hands to rest against Cas’ neck. He runs his thumb gently against the underside of Castiel’s jawline and tugs him forward. "You’re the only one I wanna screw, I promise." He murmurs before pressing their lips together.
Dean tastes of cherry pie and Castiel makes a mental note to order more of that.