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“Hello Sir, how can I help you?” The young woman working the register at the bakery counter asked cheerily.
Cas offered a small grin of his own and held out his phone, the confirmation email for the cake he’d ordered for Gabriel’s birthday displayed on the screen, “I’m here to pick up a birthday cake under the name of Castiel Novak.”
*~*S*~* • *~*S*~*
Castiel Novak was not a very happy camper.
Nope. Not at all.
His very meticulous planning for his older brother Gabriel’s surprise birthday party this evening had gone awry when he went to the bakery to pick up the cake… only to find that apparently his order had never been placed. The fault lay with the bakery and, while they were extremely apologetic and offered a voucher for another cake free of charge at a later date, there was no way they'd be able to get the cake done in time. The order was too complicated for time to permit.
So Castiel stormed off to the nearest grocery store in a huff, swept an ass load of cake mix boxes and icing containers into his basket, grabbed several dozen egg cartons and three or four gallons of milk, and two bottles of canola oil and hurried home to try and salvage his plans.
Roughly 50 boxes of cake mix were stacked on the island counter in his kitchen, mocking him. Cas stared the innocent boxes down, willing them to become a cake. After a few long moments, he sighed sharply and went for his phone, absent mindedly scrolling through his contacts.
How the hell had he forgotten he couldn’t bake?
Anna, he surmised silently, Anna will know what to do.
Without thinking, or checking to make sure that it was Anna’s contact info he’d pulled up in the midst of his furor, Cas hit ‘call’ and put the phone up to his ear. The moment the call connected, the frazzled Novak forwent a greeting, instead shooting into a diatribe of his dilemma.
“I went by the bakery this morning to pick up Gabriel’s birthday cake for the party this evening, and the order was lost or misplaced, even though I gave them physical proof of the order having been taken. So I went to the grocery store and bought a multitude of cake mixes and other cake baking necessities. However, I forgot that I’m rather inept when it comes to preparing desserts. These cakes need to be fully prepared before 8 o’clock this evening, can you come and assist me?”
“…”
“Anna, are you still there?”
“Think you got the wrong number, Cas.” Dean’s gruff tenor came over the line, amusement clear in his voice.
“Oh… hello, Dean.” Cas flushed a little, embarrassed by his mishap, “I didn’t mean to call you, I’ll let you go and call Anna’s actual number this time.”
“Or I can come over and help,” Dean offered, “I’m no pro baker or anything but I can make a good dessert. You know, you’ve had my pies before.”
Yes, Cas had been privy to sampling one of Dean’s delicious pies and had something of a religious experience the moment the first bite of buttery, flaky, sweet cinnamon-apple goodness passed his lips.
“You don’t have to do that Dean, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with my dilemma.”
“’s no trouble at all man, I don’t have work today anyway cuz I took off for your douchebag brother’s party. No offense.”
“None taken, I’m aware that Gabriel is a… rather hard pill to swallow.” Cas responded, “if you’re sure you wish to help, I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah, see you then Cas.”
They exchanged goodbyes and Cas looked down at the cake mixes smugly. He might not be able to turn them into delicious cakes but Dean would certainly be able to.
*~*S*~* • *~*S*~*
Cas opened the door to let his best friend in. Dean sauntered into Cas’ apartment, already shrugging out of his jacket and the blue and red flannel he wore, leaving him in a simple black v-neck and some dark wash jeans with rips at the knees. The brunet haired man sighed as if terribly put upon and snatched the jacket and flannel from where his friend had tossed them carelessly onto his sofa.
“Sorry, dude.” Dean apologized, watching amusedly as Cas hung the flannel and jacket on a coat hanger next to the door.
“I didn’t buy this coat hanger just for decoration, Dean,” Cas chided gently, “it has a very obvious purpose.”
“I know, I just like watching you get all huffy, sunshine.” The bowlegged Winchester meandered into the kitchen, “so what are we doing with all of this cake mix? Separate cakes? There are a lot of flavors here, Cas, and not all of them go well together.” He held up a box of orange supreme cake mix and a box of carrot cake mix.
“I was hoping you could tell me, Dean.”
“Okay…” The medium brown haired man moved on to the icing canisters and hummed thoughtfully, “I got an idea, but I gotta run back out and grab a few things first. Give me about a half hour and then we’ll get cracking on the cake.”
“Alright, Dean.”