Chapter Text
Dean waited until the DJ played the Macarena, because even though horrendously choreographed line dancing was without a doubt the most repulsive kind of dancing, it inexplicably had the power to get the largest percentage of people off their asses and onto the dance floor. The theory was proven, without fail, at every single one of these events he’d been to since he started working these gigs a year ago. Tonight, Michael Novak’s wedding reception, was no exception.
There it was, the holy grail of bad music, and while it threatened to make his ears bleed, it was the perfect distraction. Everyone was too busy shuffling in sync and flapping their arms around like idiots, leaving the tables unattended and the buffet at the back of the hall completely unguarded.
A twenty foot long table, covered in a pretty white table cloth beneath mountains of food that made his mouth water from just a glance. Buffet-style catering courtesy of Ellen Harvelle’s Roadhouse Catering, the best food he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. Literally the only food on earth that beat her cooking was his mother’s homemade peach pie, and his mom wholeheartedly agreed: no one could surpass Ellen.
Thank god he only worked one or two of these parties a month or he’d be five hundred pounds.
There was a platter of mini cheeseburgers strategically placed (by him) at the end of the table, almost completely untouched and it’d been calling his name all evening.
The guests were all busy dancing, and this was his chance, now or never, and so-freaking-what if the wait staff technically wasn’t allowed to eat the food.
So he slinked over, all inconspicuous like, as if he was just there to check up that everything was okay, just doing his job, then he glanced around giving the room a once over, and making sure Ellen wasn’t watching (because she knew his MO, but she as nowhere to be found).
He reached for a mini burger, shoved the entire thing into his mouth, and -
“Good god they’re even better than last time.” And good thing he wasn’t actually talking to anyone, because the words were indecipherable through his chewing.
“You know,” came a voice from his right, “the food is supposed to be for the guests."
Dean jumped, startled, and looked over to find the source. It was dark, all the nearby lights were all directed at the food, and he’d been so worried about being caught by Ellen that he didn’t even notice the kid sitting and leaning against the wall just a few feet away. Stupid, careless.
Dean tried to size him up. The deep voice made him sound older but they looked to be about the same age. And the kid didn’t appear angry, he looked… annoyed and uncomfortable but not in any way that seemed related to Dean’s actions. Just something about sitting alone in dark corner, in stiff, new clothes (because Dean could clearly see the the distinct sort of creases of perfectly folded store items). Nice slacks, fitted white button down, and a royal blue tie to match his eyes. There was gel in his hair that couldn’t quite keep it from sticking up, and he was absentmindedly tugging on a thread coming loose from the back of the tie and clearly, he didn’t want to be there. And that, Dean thought, would likely keep him out of trouble.
So Dean opted for a charming, innocent smile. “Well hello to you, too."
The kid stood up, almost at eye level with Dean, but he said nothing, just started at him with what Dean was hoping was only mock-disapproval. So Dean just kept talking, because that was the sort of thing he did best.
“You should know that this is now the dance portion of the evening, and you’re supposed to be out there ‘taking it back now’ and not loitering around the buffet."
The kid grimaced and Dean grinned. The score was now one-one. He congratulated himself with another mini burger, licking the grease obnoxiously off his fingers.
“You have my permission to punch me in the face if I ever willingly join in one of those mad group seizures."
Dean nearly choked on his burger and his laugh came out as more of a coughing fit, because that was not at all the response he’d been expecting. A joke, yes, but said with enough sincerity that it took his brain a couple extra seconds to recognize it as such.
The kid just waited patiently, watching Dean as he got his breathing back to normal and swallowed his food, and Dean, who was usually quick on his feet and loose with the comebacks, was at a loss.
“Uhh…"
“If you hand me a burger I won’t tell anyone you’re stealing food.” He held out a hand expectantly and raised an eyebrow.
Dean smiled but didn’t move. “You wouldn’t tell on me."
“Do you want to test that theory?"
Dean did not. The kid looked harmless enough, if a little out of place, but he spoke with confidence.
Plus, no harm in sharing, plenty to go around, and it would be just slightly less suspicious than standing there on his own. Dean’s waiter attire was a dead giveaway.
“Well,” Dean said as he passed him a couple burgers, “sharing is caring.” Or at least that’s what he’d always told his little brother Sammy when they were younger, but his motives had always been selfish. Maybe they still were.
The kid snorted. “Whatever you say.” And when he moved to grab the burger, Dean noticed the cuff links. Little golden honey bees.
Dean raised his eyebrow in question, but the kid just shrugged and took the food.
Dean ate another one himself, and watched as the kid took a bite, look of pure bliss spreading across his face and eyes fluttering closed as he chewed. It was adorable.
“These make me very happy,” he said, smiling at Dean, who smiled right back.
“You really like burgers."
“They’re my favorite. But I don’t eat them often."
“That’s a shame, but you have good taste. And Ellen’s are - "
A flash of red hair appeared at his side along with a sharp smack on his shoulder as Charlie, fellow waitress and best friend, appeared out of nowhere.
“And speaking of that devil,” she said, “she can see you eating the food and she’s pissed."
“Damn it. Not again."
“Let’s go.”
Charlie started dragging him off so he waved goodbye to the kid, who was laughing at him, so he winked and grabbed a final burger for the road. If he was going to be yelled at, he was going to make it well worth it.
v/\v/\v/\v/\v/\v/\v/\v
He’d started working for Ellen a year ago but he’d known her his whole life. They were neighbors, she was his mom’s best friend, and he and his brother Sammy had grown up trying not to get their asses kicked by her daughter Jo. They failed, needless to say, because she may be tiny but she was a little crazy and a lot too smart for her own good. And for the good of others, apparently, but they became good friends anyway.
Jo worked for Ellen too, because she wasn't given a choice, whereas Dean practically had to beg for the job as soon as he turned sixteen. He wanted the cash, he wanted to work with is friends, but mostly he wanted the food. Ellen didn’t quite trust him around it, with good reason, but he could be polite when he needed to be, and he knew his way around a kitchen.
It was half a miracle he’d made it a year so far without getting fired. He couldn’t even be mad if she did decide to can him; he deserved it.
So she caught him at the Novak wedding. She didn’t catch him at the bat mitzvah the month before, or the Johnson family reunion a few weeks before that. He’d grown overconfident, he let himself slip up, and so Ellen saw him, and so did bee boy. But he’d learned his lesson, to be more careful next time, and not to let cute boys (wait, what?) distract him.
But whatever. It was one gig, and it was over. The next month they catered some guy’s 90th birthday and he successfully snuck two mini burgers and an entire slice of apple pie without anyone noticing. Except Charlie, but she just rolled her eyes and demanded a bite of the pie. (And for the record, he believed he was entitled to the pie, he did bake it, after all.)
Ellen was none the wiser and Dean all but forgotten about the incident at the Novak wedding, except that he hadn’t. Every time he ate or so much as got a whiff of Ellen’s burgers that kid with the messy hair and bright blue eyes would pop into his head. He never got the chance to thank him for playing along. After Ellen had finished scolding him he went back to ‘apologize’ (as per her request) but couldn’t find him anywhere.
So about six months passed, the blue of the kid’s eyes had been exaggerated beyond belief in his imagination, and he’d eaten more burgers than he cared to keep track of.
It was nearing the end of fall, which also happened to mark the end of the busy wedding season for Ellen’s catering, and Ellen booked him to work the last big wedding of the year.
He had a new plan for sneaking food, because Ellen had officially figured out the line dancing ploy, so after he helped set up the buffet and made the rounds of the tables, he waited till the speeches were over and there was music playing, and gave Charlie the signal.
(It was actually pretty easy to get Charlie involved, because she was pretty much down for anything that could be in some way, shape, or form construed as a quest. And more importantly he’d promised he’d go LARPing with her. Jokes on her though, cause he would have went regardless.)
Cue Operation Let Me Eat Cake (which of course had absolutely nothing to do with cake, specifically), where Charlie as the diversion instead of shitty music.
Dean staked out the buffet until the traffic had died down and there was just one guy left, starting at an empty platter like he could refill it with just sheer will. Dean waited, and he waited, but the guy wasn’t budging and Charlie’s diversion wouldn’t last forever and he had to make his move.
He started creeping over and then the guy shifted and the light caught a glint of something on his wrists, and -
Now, Dean was not exactly known for his attention to detail, so the fact that this was another Novak wedding had escaped him, or maybe he just didn't make the connection, because maybe Ellen mentioned the name and he could have pieced it together, but it basically amounts to it probably being his own fault for being caught off guard.
But he would recognize those silly honey bee cuff links anywhere. (And for the record, by silly he means something maybe more along the lines of adorably ridiculous, but what was this kid twelve?)
But this meant, of course, that the buffet was officially fair game, even with the kid standing there.
So he walked up next to him, leaned over so he’d be heard over the music and simply said, “Hi there."
The kid looked over at him, confused, (and wow Dean had not actually exaggerated the blue of his eyes) and then recognition flickered across his face and he frowned. Not exactly the reaction Dean was hoping for, but -
“There aren’t any burgers left."
Oh. The empty platter. But Dean just smirked. “Is that so?"
The kid’s frown deepened and he pointed to the empty plate like he couldn’t believe how dumb Dean was being when the evidence was right under his nose.
“Well it’s lucky I found you then,” Dean said as he walked around the other side of the table, shifted around some plates, and then produced a small one with a lid.
The kid watched with rapt attention as he lifted the lid to reveal a total of six mini burgers.
“I’d have set more aside if I knew I’d be sharing."
The kid looked up from the plate to catch Dean’s eye and grinned. “Technically, they’re not yours to share. If anything they’re mine to share, and I will graciously allow you three of them.” He reached out and stole the plate from him and managed to eat a burger before Dean even realized what was happening.
“Whoa. Hey. Rude. I’m the one saving you here, okay? You were staring at an empty plate like it was personally responsible for ruining your night."
“It was personally responsible,” he said through a mouthful. "Not that the night started off great in the first place, but now it’s looking up.” He started on a second burger. “Mmm. Even better than I remembered."
Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.” And he grabbed one for himself so he’d at least get something before the kid wolfed them all down.
“I’m Dean, by the way."
“I know. You have a name tag."
“Oh, right."
“Castiel.” And Dean must have made a face, because after a pause he added, “Or Cas, if you prefer."
Dean nodded. “Nice to officially meet you."
“Likewise."
They ate the rest of the burgers in silence, no need to spoil the snack with conversation, but they both stuck around after they were gone. But silence isn’t something Dean knows how to handle when there’s nothing else to do, though it didn’t seem to bother Cas, and after a few more bites from random dishes, Dean broke.
“So. Two weddings in one year. Thought I was the only one constantly at these things, but I'm at least get paid for it."
Cas groaned and threw his hands up, exasperated, and went and sat down against the nearby wall, knees bent up and head in his hands. Just leaving Dean there, once again at a loss for words, because all of Cas’s responses fly in from way out of left field.
“Sorry.” Came his muffled response. Then he look back up and Dean. "That was dramatic. But this is my life now.” He waved vaguely at the the reception hall.
Dean went over and took a seat next to him. “Weddings?"
“Yes. I have five hundred siblings and cousins."
“Are we not done being overdramatic?"
Cas glared him and continued. “It would take the entire night for me to count them all, and I would never be confident that I didn’t leave someone out. In the next five or so years, I will attend more weddings than anyone should have to in an entire lifetime."
Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Cas must’ve read his mind because -
“Doesn’t count if you’re being paid to work the weddings, Dean, so don’t."
“Fine. But - "
“No."
“Alright, alright.” Dean reached over to the table and pulled down a plate of cookies, offering one to Cas.
“Thanks. And sorry. I’m being horrible."
“You’re not being horrible."
He laughed. “Well I’m thinking some pretty horrible things, but outwardly I’m practicing restraint."
“Well good on you. Personally, I haven’t mastered that skill. I’ll listen though, no judgment."
“I appreciate the offer, but the last thing I want to do is give you a reason to hate me."
So Dean changed the subject and they talked about stupid things for a while, steadily making their way through the cookies, until there was only one left, and Cas felt the need to ask -
“Shouldn’t you be working?"
“Yeah, whatever."
And then with unfairly perfect timing, Jo came out of nowhere. “Yes, you should be. Mom saw you eating the food again."
“Shit. Do me a favor and - "
“No way. Not putting myself in the way of her wrath for you, Dean.” She looked over at Cas. “He's not worth it."
Cas laughed, and even though Dean wasn’t thrilled to be in trouble again, he was glad to be leaving Cas in a better mood than he’d found him.
“Well, until next time, I suppose. If I survive this. See ya, Cas."
He tried to do a cute half wave, half salute as he backed away, but Jo tugged his arm, nearly knocking him over and it didn’t come nearly as smooth as he’d intended.
v/\v/\v/\v/\v/\v/\v/\v
So then it became a thing, apparently. Ever since Cas implied that there would be a lot of family gatherings in the future, Dean started to look forward to them. He got excited every time Ellen called to see if he was free to work, and was disappointed whenever it wasn’t a Novak related event.
He’d only met the kid twice, sure, but it was nice to have a willing partner in his food stealing crimes. He’d still do it anyway, but it was more fun this way. So much fun, in fact, that even a few months after he’d last see him, he found himself laughing about something funny Cas had said. In public, like an idiot, when Sam had made him drive him to the dollar store for supplies for some school project. Dean was trailing behind him down the aisles, and then he saw it.
A little plastic honey bee toy, about the size of the pink eraser that Sam was now throwing at him to add to the basket. Stupid little cartoony honey bee with black wings and two big blue dots painted on to pass as eyes, and somehow it managed to look like Cas. If that was possible, and probably not, but that’s already where Dean’s head was so it was easy to make the leap.
It was a dollar. Not even a dollar, but ninety-eight freaking cents, and just shut up already it was cute. He decided not to think about it and tossed it to the basket before moving on, and thankfully Sam was too focused on finding his own dollar store treasures to notice. It’d sit on his desk a few weeks and then he’d probably lose it. Whatever.
He threw it behind a stack of books and forgot about it. (Kind of. Not really.)
When Ellen called him about the next Novak wedding, Dean was ready. He might have known what he was getting into, but it still caught him by surprise. It wasn’t a wedding at all this time, but a party celebrating something or other for a group of the smaller Novaks, and there were children running around everywhere. It was distracting, and he sort of accidentally ambushed Cas as he was leaving the washroom and Dean was entering. They nearly collided, but Cas was pretty cool, calm, and collected, while Dean kind of spazzed out.
Cas greeted him with, “Oh no, not you again,” but he was smiling.
And then later they met up once again by the buffet, and before Dean even had the chance to grab himself any food Cas bombarded him, with “Please, you have to talk to me so they can’t."
“They?"
“Literally everyone else. If one more person asks me about my plans for college I will not be responsible for my actions. It’s a minefield of nosy relatives out there."
“College?” Dean hadn’t yet determined how old Cas was
“You’re not allowed to ask either!” And yet, Cas ranted about his woes anyway, the whole having no clue what to do with your life spiel, just stared his first year of college in the fall with an undeclared major. Maybe he'd teach, but small children freaked him out (he was really not enjoying this party), high school was a terrible experience he did not want to revisit, nor was he thrilled with the extra years of school it would take to teach at a higher level.
He just didn’t want to follow in the family footsteps, where for almost all of them, philanthropy was key but only (only) if they could get rich in the process. For Cas, helping was good, hypocrisy bad.
“What I want is not what they want. You know?"
Dean kind of got it, kind of didn’t. He was expected to take over his dad’s garage one day, and he liked cars so why not.
“But if you could do anything?"
“I... have no idea."
“Not a great feeling is it?"
“Thanks for the downer, Cas."
“This has been my whole day, I’m just trying to give you some insight."
“But I’m supposed to be distracting you, aren’t I?” He smiled and went for another mini burger, handing one to Cas as well. “So how about - oh no, incoming. Hide me.” He tried to duck behind a confused Cas, but it was no use.
“Dean!"
“Hey, Jo,” he said, peeking from behind Cas’s shoulder.
“Caught you red handed. Again. What is wrong with you."
He stuffed the rest of the burger into his mouth, and tried to say I don’t know what you’re talking about, but Jo just made face at him.
“Gross. My mother wants to see you."
“Of course she does. Why you always turning me in, Jo?” He swallowed his mouthful. “Well, later, Cas."
But Cas was already backing away, wide eyed and worried, looking past Dean at what he assumed could only be another too-curious relative swooping in. Dean would save him if he could, but Jo was right there, glaring and tapping her foot impatiently, and Dean was man enough to admit he was afraid of her.
It was after that incident that Dean noticed a pattern. Ellen only ever caught him sneaking food at Novak events. He decided to blame Cas.
So when he saw Cas for the fourth time, at Hester’s wedding reception, he snuck up behind him where he was standing by the buffet (waiting for him, Dean hoped) and announced, “I’m blaming you, Cas."
“Excuse me?"
“If Ellen fires me. It’s your fault."
“I fail to see how."
“You keep telling yourself that."
Cas rolled his eyes and watched, amused, as Dean shuffled around the table and gathered a couple of small hidden plates, handing a couple to Cas for safekeeping.
“But it’s okay. I’ve got a new plan. Let’s go."
“What? Where?” But Dean had already started walking, leaving him with no choice but to follow.
They weaved around tables until they reached the opposite side of the hall, still far from the dance floor and far from the kitchen where Ellen would be, to where there were a couple of empty tables, with table cloths that reached almost down to the floor.
Dean chose the farthest table, lifted the side of the cloth that was facing the wall and pinned it up to allow for some light beneath the table, set the food down on the floor and crawled under.
“I’m not sitting under a table, Dean."
“Yes you are. Get down here."
“No. And please explain yourself."
He stuck his head back out to say, “I considered just sitting at the table, you know, the whole hiding in plain sight thing? But Jo would never let me get away with that."
No response, so Dean ducked back under the table.
“Cas! Come on! I will eat all of these burgers without you."
And that, apparently, was all it took for Cas to get off his high horse and sink (literally and figuratively) to Dean’s level.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this."
“I’m not making you do anything.” He smirked and slid a plate towards Cas. “You’ll willingly do anything for one of these burgers."
“I beg you not to test that theory any further."
“We’ll see. No promises."
The ate for a couple minutes, and then -
“Wait, why are we under a table?"
“Because, Cas. This way I won’t get in trouble, and you won’t have to deal with any relatives."
“Oh.” His eyes widened, then he nodded. “Good plan."
It was a curious, careful game. There were a lot of rules that they made up as they went along and neither of them fully understood all of it at the same time. It was exciting, it was a little stressful, it was kind of really great, and there seemed to be an unspoken agreement to keep their newfound friendship within the confines of the ‘chance’ meetings. Except after that third one Dean made a pact with himself that he would never miss one, and he thought maybe Cas expected him to always be there, because he stopped looking surprised to see him.
It was weird but it worked, and Dean wouldn’t have had it any other way.