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It was raining and the only place Dean found to park was outside a shop that sold different olive oils. His intended destination was a few shops down, to pick up spices for his kitchen. He walked past a bakery with “Pies’ screen printed on cafe curtains that caught his interest. Even in the rain, he smelled them. The scents of warm pastries full of sweet and savory filling were floating from the storefront.
“Christ on a cracker,” Dean murmured to no one in particular. Though he had been doing business down the street for years, he had never seen or heard of this business before. Probably because he usually parked on the other block.
As Dean walked into the shop the bells above the door jingled.
The smells hit him, fresh apple, pumpkin spice, mixed berry, toasted pecan, and banana bread.
“Welcome to ‘Pies’! Can I take your order?” He heard from behind the counter before he had even turned to look at all the baked goods on display. Dean was surprised by the number of his favorite desserts.
There were mini-pies of at least a dozen kinds, large pies, cookies, and other baked goods. Then there were the home baking supplies, assorted pie-printed merchandise… So much that Dean didn’t know whether to look at the home goods or the food. It was all heaven on a plate to him. He put his index finger up, indicating he’d need just a moment. Then he lowered it and said, “I’ll take a blueberry mini-pie, a large cherry, and a plain black coffee to go.”
“I’ll get that started for you,” a deep voice said. Then questioned, “What brought you out buying goods in this nasty weather?”
“I usually only go shopping when I’m on a hunt for something I’m out of in my pantry. Today it was spices, and I had to park on the other end of the block because all my usual spaces were full,” Dean replied. “I went around the block and ended up here. I saw your shop window curtains and that’s the story, Morning Glory.”
“Oh! I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m glad you came in. I’m Castiel, owner and head baker.” He stuck his hand out after removing the food service gloves he wore to assemble Dean’s order.
“Dean Winchester, Pie enthusiast extraordinaire,” He responded while shaking Castiel’s hand.
“Thank you for your business. I hope you come in again soon,” Cas said as he handed Dean the pastry boxes and his coffee.
When his pie order was handed over the counter, Dean then gripped the boxes under his arm, with the look of a dragon hoarding shiny trinkets. His eyes looked right into Cas’ and he acknowledged, “I hope so too.”
Dean walked toward the door, turned around, and meaningfully said, “No, that isn’t right. I will come in again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
He took his boxes to the car to safely store them until he returned. As he walked down the street to the spice shop, Dean noticed writing on the coffee cup: a phone number and the name, “Castiel.”
After making his stop at the spices store, Dean walked back by ‘Pies’ and waved at Cas through the storefront windows, making sure to walk under the window awnings to try to stay dry.
He shook his head and thought about his perpetual desire to give people nicknames without their request or permission. Dean realized he had already done this with “Cas” and he laughed at himself and got in his car. He made a mental note that he needed to go into the olive oil shop next trip.
As a confident home chef and lover of things unique, he shopped in his favorite stores looking for new ingredients to add to his pantry. He loved the sound of his feet on the linoleum floors, the unique hardware used for displays, the sounds of the different bells, and smelling or tasting new products.
But his routine was just that: routine. Maybe it was time to move out of his bubble. After all, today he found a Pie shop, a new olive oil supply store to check out, who knows what he might find on his next trip.
Once in the car, he pulled up his rock playlist from the 2010s and the speakers blared 3 Doors Down, Theory of a Deadman, Ed Sheeran, and Dean’s guilty pleasure, Taylor Swift. Driving home, he thought about that phone number and what it might or could mean.
Did he want to meet up with a man? Was he ready for small talk? Ed Sheeran’s voice came over the speakers,
“Baby I just want to dance”...
How long had it been since Dean had been dancing? Been to a bar to hustle pool or darts? Been anywhere but work, home, or with family? When was his last relationship? The song played on and Dean just drove,
You know she beat me at darts and then she beat me at pool
And then she kissed me like there was nobody else in the room
As last orders were called was when she stood on the stool
After dancing to Cèilidh singing to trad tunes…
The next line stood out to Dean and made his decision.
Oh, I could have that voice playing on repeat for a week…
Dark hair, azure blue eyes, full lips, everything that pushed Dean’s buttons. Then there was that voice. Deep, gravely, but still velvety. Everything he wanted. It had been months since he’d met anyone new. Work and home were really all he knew anymore.
After he arrived home and put his goodies away he thought one more time before grabbing his phone to text Cas.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“This is Dean, from your shop this morning?” He wrote tentatively, but with conviction. “I would like to get together.” He silently prayed to a god he didn’t really believe in.
After thinking for several more minutes Dean wrote, “Are you familiar with the pizza shop at the end block where your shop is?”
“...” Dean read on his phone.
“Hello Dean, yes, I eat there or have a pizza brought to the shop for all of the employees at times.” Castiel wrote back.
“Can we meet there this weekend?” Dean asked, again praying he was doing the right thing.
“Yes, I’m off at 3 on Saturday. Meet you there at about 3:30pm, if that’s agreeable?” Castiel wrote back.
“You’re on. See you then.”