Work Text:
“Dean!”
Dean looks up from his iPad to see a disgruntled Sam coming with a paper in his hand and a deep frown in his face.
“Heya, Sammy. What’s gotten your thong in a twist?” Dean greets. Sam looks utterly unimpressed.
“Dean, I can’t believe this. I know you and common sense aren’t exactly in the best term, but I can’t believe you can do this,” Sam grumbles.
Dean throws his hand up in mock surrender. “What did I do?” he asks, trying his best to look genuinely surprised. From the bitch face Sam is sending toward him, he doesn’t seem to be doing too well.
“Read this,” Sam commands, shoving the newspaper to Dean’s hands.
Green eyes immediately follow the direction of Sam’s finger. “It’s my review. So?”
“So? So?” Sam seethes, and Dean cringes a little.
“Yeah, that was the review for the restaurant we visited last week, right? What’s the name, uh … Goat de Lemur?”
“That’s not funny, and it’s Goût de L’amour. Dean, I know you’re a famous food critic and people respect you, okay. But people are talking, and your reputation is at stake here! If you can’t take the job seriously, people won’t respect your judgment!”
“Calm down, Sammy. I’m still the food critic of New York Times, people still ask me to evaluate their restaurants; all is well.”
“You can’t misuse your position, Dean. Your critique determines the continuation of people’s business. If you—”
“I know, Sam, I know. You’ve said that a million times. I get it. I just have a different way of critiquing people, you know? Pointing out their weaknesses and praising their effort in sweet nothings just isn’t my style. But if you ever think that I’m underestimating my job, maybe you haven’t been my brother long enough.”
Hearing Dean’s explanation, albeit the joke, makes Sam sigh. Maybe he worries too much. He can’t be blamed entirely; his brother is a reckless person, and with his reputation, it can backfire quite horribly.
“Okay, maybe I’m just overreacting,” Sam admits.
“Okay, then this isn’t a problem, right?” Dean grins.
“But you don’t really give the boy your number, right?” Sam asks again.
Dean averts his eyes nervously. “Uh, is that gonna be a problem?”
Sam groans, smothering his face with both hands. “Oh my god, Dean.”
Castiel is decidedly not a morning person. He rarely gets up before nine, and even then he still needs two cups of coffee to drive away his surliness. So when Gabriel comes barging in to his room, waking him at eight thirty in his day off, of course Cas is entitled to be pissed.
“I don’t care about anything you intend to show me, Gabriel!” Cas growls and pulls his blanket to cover his head.
Gabriel is stubborn, though. With a newspaper in his hand, he shakes his little brother hard. “Come on, Cas, look at this!”
After much changing positions and still no result, Cas snaps. “Okay, okay! What?”
Gabriel shoves the newspaper. “Here, read this,” he says, pointing at a headline.
The sleepiness is slowly washed away when Cas reads the news. He soon realizes that it’s a critique for Goût de L’amour, the restaurant he’s working at. His face flushes a little when he remembers the food critic who visited last week.
Their New York Strip is, to say the least, disastrous. I asked for a medium rare but I was given rare. The fat isn’t seared, and the meat tastes bland. Their Filet Mignon is fortunately better. The meat is slightly undercooked, but at least the seasoning is acceptable. What truly disgusts me is their Shrimp Skewer. The shrimps are overcooked and tastes like rubber. I can’t take another bite after the first one, and I just want to slam my cutlery and walk away.
Cas frowns. The critique is rather harsh. He acknowledges that Goût de L’amour doesn’t serve good food, but he doesn’t expect for it to receive such bad rating.
“Um, despite the bad score, this is just a normal critique, Gabriel,” Cas complains.
“Skip everything. Read the last paragraph,” Gabriel insists.
Cas only frowns deeper, but he complies.
So, the food is exquisitely bad, the place is just average, and the price isn’t worth the pleasure. If it isn’t for that cute waiter I gave my number to, I’d say we should demolish this place.
Cas’ face burns bright and he almost throws the newspaper across the room in embarrassment. He still has the card that food critique—Dean, he remembers him saying his name—gave him.
“Looks like you got yourself a date, Cassie,” Gabriel teases.
“It isn’t like that,” Cas says exasperatedly.
“Oh, really? He’s kinda cute, you know. I checked,” Gabriel teases again.
“Go away, Gabriel!” Cas shoos his brother away. Gabriel walks away from his room laughing.
Cas sits on his bed, contemplating with Dean’s card in one hand and his phone in another. He has Dean’s number in his phone, and it just takes one push at the call button for him to talk to the green-eyed man. But Cas is hesitant, and he’s spent fifteen minutes thinking back and forth on whether he should call him or not.
Here comes nothing, Cas thinks, and with a deep breath he shuts his eyes and presses call. Dean answers after the second ring.
“Hello? Who is this?” he says, and Castiel forgets that his voice sounds really nice.
“Um, Mr. Winchester, this is Castiel,” Cas starts cautiously.
“This is Cas? Cas the waiter? Oh my god I’m so sorry for my stupidity. I wasn’t thinking when I wrote the critique. I thought Sammy—he’s my brother, and he takes care of me a lot, but not that you’d care—was just overreacting, but then I thought about it and I’m really sorry for causing you trouble. What can I do to help? Should I do a written apology? Do you need compensation money? Is there anything I can do?” Dean starts bombarding Cas with questions, and Cas is lost in confusion somewhere between.
When Dean finally calms, Cas figures he can finally speak. “Mr. Winchester, I—”
“Dean, please,” Dean cuts him off, a little breathless.
“Um, okay, Dean. It’s fine for me. You have done anything wrong or displeasing to me,” Cas says softly. He worries Dean might explode again.
“But the critique…?” Dean asks.
Cas chuckles. “Yes, I admit it might cause some trouble, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Oh thank god,” Dean sounds like he just lets out a breath he’s been holding. “But are you, like, angry or anything? I mean, I was kinda, uh, rude.”
“It is quite bold, but I have no problem with that,” Cas says. His cheeks are tinted pink as swallows down his embarrassment to add, “Besides, I’m flattered by your compliment in the critique and I think I’d like to know you better.”
On the other side of the line, Dean’s mouth is agape. He can’t believe his own hearing. “Uuuh, what?”
“Oh, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m being very inconsiderate, I’m very sorry,” Cas hurriedly says with wavering voice.
“No, no, it’s not that. I mean, do you really mean that? Because if you do, I have a friend who owes me fifty bucks, and I’m gonna need it to take you out next weekend,” Dean answers while grinning unconsciously. He reminds himself to get Balthazar to pay him the fifty dollars for their bet.
Realization dawns on Cas and slowly a smile spreads on his lips. He can’t stifle the joy in his voice when he says, “I’d love that.”
“Okay,” Dean grins and pumps his fist in victory. Sam looks at him with a weird yet affectionate look. Dean can’t wait to tell his brother about Cas and their newly developed relationship. “So, Sunrise Café near the park, Saturday 2 pm? Whaddaya say?”
“I’ll be waiting,” Cas answers. He then says his goodbye before disconnecting.
He looks at his blank phone screen, imagining the cheerful look on Dean’s face, and smiles from ear-to-ear. With a soft voice, he says to himself, “I’ll be waiting.”