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“I’m Castiel Novak. Each week one brave chef tries to best me in my own kitchen. This culinary battle is going to play out in two rounds. Round one – to get to me, two contenders have to go through each other, using an ingredient of my choice. Two people who know me well will decide who has got the skills to beat me. Round two – I go head to head with the winning contender. It’s their turn to surprise me with their signature dish. Bottom line, everyone’s out to beat me.”
Backstage Castiel listened to the introduction he had prerecorded over two years ago for his popular and highly rated cooking show – Beat Castiel Novak. The studio audience erupted into applause at the end of the introduction, giving Castiel his cue to take the stage. As he made his entrance, he was immediately blinded by the spotlights; the nerves he felt about being recorded for a live television show had mostly dissipated over the years, but the bright stage lights still got him every time.
“Our first contender…” Castiel tuned out as the guest judges announced the first contestant; after 40 or so shows, he knew the spiel well. He watched as a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a perky smile walked onto the stage.
“Our second contender joins us all the way from San Francisco,” that caught Castiel’s attention, “where he co-owns and runs the famous Roadhouse Grill.”
Oh no. This was not happening.
“Please welcome, Chef Dean Winchester!”
Apparently this was happening.
A thousand thoughts simultaneously flooded Castiel’s mind as the second contestant entered the arena. What the hell was he doing here? Why was Dean Winchester on his stage? How had no one warned him about this?
Oh, that’s right, because he had never actually told anyone in his current life Dean Winchester’s name – just the heartbreaking story of lost love associated with the man. Castiel had never been so regretful over his keep-your-personal-life-personal tendencies.
Castiel forced himself to look away from the green-eyed chef’s face and focus on the other contender as well, reciting his next lines from rote memory and hoping the panic he felt in his chest wasn’t translating to his face for millions of viewers to see at home.
“I know you are both here today to get to me,” – was Dean here today to get to him? Or was this simply a bizarre mishap? Or a shot at redemption… Or perhaps revenge? – “but first you must go through each other.” Castiel went through his familiar lines without much focus; his thoughts were elsewhere – memories of green eyes and long nights cooking in a shared apartment kitchen running through his mind.
“You have twenty minutes to make a dish with the ingredient of my choice. My two friends and guest judges – Chef Balthazar Milton and Restaurateur Meg Masters – are who you need to impress first because they will taste your dishes and decide who gets to take me on.” Castiel internally cringed, suddenly hearing how sexual ‘take me on’ sounded when face-to-face with Dean Winchester for the first time in seven years. “The ingredient I’ve chosen today is…” Castiel paused for dramatic effect, all the while rolling his eyes internally knowing what Dean’s reaction would be. “Bacon.”
Castiel couldn’t help it; he made eye contact with Dean as he said the word bacon. He didn’t miss the triumph that flashed across the chef’s eyes at the news. Bacon was one of his main food groups. Dean knew he had won this round before it even began.
Castiel steeled himself – he was absolutely going to be facing off against Dean Winchester today.
**
Dean couldn’t believe his luck; with bacon as the showcase ingredient in the first round, he easily sailed past his competition into the second round. As he stood in the center of the stage, preparing to face off against Castiel Novak, he finally got a chance to look the man over for the first time in seven years.
As Dean’s eyes gave Castiel a once over, he noted that not much had changed. Unkempt dark hair. Eyes so blue they appeared to be glowing. A rigid posture that exuded power.
Fuck. He was still hot. Dean almost scowled in annoyance but then remembered he was on national television.
“So, Dean, why do you want to beat Castiel Novak today?” Dean heard Chef Milton ask from the sidelines.
“Let’s just say I have a score to settle.” He heard the audience murmur in response to his answer.
“Well, then.” Castiel addressed Dean directly for the first time, sounding more tense than usual. “What dish are you challenging me to today?”
Dean locked eyes with Castiel. “Filet mignon.”
Dean didn’t miss the way Castiel’s breath hitched, eyes looking slightly betrayed.
Good. That’s exactly the reaction Dean was hoping for.
**
The hour-long cook off flew by, and despite Dean’s best efforts, Chef Castiel Novak still came out on top. It had been a close call – the judges had called Dean’s filet mignon paired with grilled asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes delectable – but Castiel had edged him out by one vote.
Whatever. Dean was half-convinced the show was rigged anyway.
After the final lines had been spoken and the cameras stopped rolling, Dean high-tailed it off the stage. He had no desire to hang around dwelling on yet another disaster in his life associated with Castiel Novak.
Castiel had other plans, quickly following Dean’s retreating back.
“Dean.”
Dean ignored Castiel’s call.
“Dean.” Castiel chased after his competitor, catching him by the shoulder and spinning the man around to face him. “You do not just get to show up like this and then leave without talking to me.”
“I’ve got nothing to say, Castiel.” Dean’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Why are you here?”
“To beat the famous Castiel Novak.” Dean put up mock jazz hands as he said Castiel’s name. “Obviously, I failed. So I’m just gonna get outta here and leave you to your fame and success, Chef.”
“Oh, come off it.” Castiel spat at Dean. “Don’t be such an assbutt. Why the hell are you here?”
“Assbutt? Really? Still using that?”
Castiel’s glare deepened. “Why. Are you. Here.”
“I already told you.” Dean said. “Can’t say it any clearer. So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go.”
Dean went to leave, but Castiel stood in his way. “Bull shit. Don’t fucking lie to me, Dean. Not after all this time.”
“Look, I get it, you’re pissed off that your ex boyfriend showed up – ”
“Fiancé.”
“What?”
“Ex fiancé. Not boyfriend.” Castiel corrected Dean coldly. “Nice touch, by the way. Challenging me to the dish you made me the night you proposed.”
“Oh really?” Dean laughed bitterly. “Didn’t think you remembered that part of our relationship. Seeing as the week after you said yes to me you decided to take a job across the country working for Michael Angeles.”
“Don’t bring him into this.”
“Don’t bring – how can you… he’s the fucking reason you left Cas!”
“What?” Castiel’s head snapped towards Dean, a look of genuine confusion on his face.
“You jumped at the chance to move three thousand miles away from me to work with some douchebag who obviously wanted to get in your pants.” Dean growled. “Pretty clear where your heart was at.”
“I didn’t choose him over you.” Castiel raised his voice. “I got a job offer at one of the best restaurants in New York City and decided to take it. A decision I assumed my best friend and fiancé would be supportive of, but before I could even get home from the interview to tell you the good news you left me.”
“Yeah, well, I heard Michael’s message on the answering machine. Talking about how he was agreeable to your terms would be waiting for you in New York. I didn’t need to stick around and hear it outta your mouth.” Dean huffed.
Castiel stared at Dean dumbly. “So you decided to what, break up with me first? Because you just assumed I was going to come home and tell you ‘Hey, I’ve changed my mind and the last four years have been a lie. I don’t actually love you and I’m leaving you for a man I’ve made it clear I have no interest in.”… did you really have so little faith in me? In our relationship?”
“You forgettin’ the part where you took the job interview without telling me? And then accepted the job across the damn country before talking with me first? A job that had you working for Michael. Any of that ringing a bell?” Dean fought back.
“Michael had nothing to do with why I took that job.” Castiel glared at Dean. “I didn’t choose him over you. In fact, I told him the only way I would take the job is if you came on as my sous chef – which he had agreed to, by the way – but I didn’t get a chance to tell you that since I came home from the interview and your stuff was gone and all I was left with was a note that said ‘Keep the ring.’”
Dean’s mind went blank. A loud ringing built up in his ears. What had Castiel just said? What?
“What?”
“I didn’t choose Michael Angeles over you, Dean.” Castiel repeated. “You are the most frustrating man alive. If you had just let me explain myself – answered one of my goddamn phone calls over the years – our lives would be completely different. We would be completely different.”
Dean felt his heart fill with dread. He was stupid. So, so stupid.
“Cas,” Dean croaked. “I don’t know – I didn’t know – damn it. I’m such a fucking moron.”
Castiel almost laughed. “Yes, that’s true.”
“I’m such a loser.”
Castiel rolled his eyes. “You’re not a loser. A stubborn asshole, yes, but not a loser.”
“Yeah, I am, Cas.” Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “A loser hung up on his ex for years for no good reason seeing as it was my damn fault this whole time.”
Castiel raised an eyebrow at Dean. “You’re still hung up on me?”
“Course I am.” Dean gave Castiel an imploring look. “Why do you think I came on this damn show?” Dean shook his head. “Couldn’t even do the show right, either. Didn’t think you’d remember how to make that dish so well.”
“Of course I remember.” Castiel stepped towards Dean. “It was the best dinner I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, well, apparently you make it better.” Dean looked nervously at Castiel as he approached.
“Maybe I did today, but I am sure you would win most other days.”
“Why are you being nice to me right now?” Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously. “I’m the biggest jerk alive.”
“Perhaps,” Castiel reached out and took one of Dean’s hands in his own. “I suppose I’m a bit hung up on you as well.”
Dean grasped at Castiel’s hand. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Castiel confirmed. “Besides, you were right. I should have told you about the interview before I went. I should have spoken to you before accepting the job. I owed you that. It all happened so fast and I got swept up in it without thinking of you first.”
“You did the right thing, taking it.” Dean sighed. “Look at where you are now. Biggest name in the industry.”
Castiel shrugged. “Doesn’t feel like much of a victory since it cost me you.”
Dean shook his head. “I should’ve answered your calls, Cas. I didn’t make this any easier.”
“Well, then let’s start over.” Castiel moved into Dean’s space, placing a hand on his shoulder, gripping him in earnest. “You’re it for me, Dean Winchester.”
Dean gulped, voice thick with emotion. “Yeah, same, Cas. I mean, you too. For me.”
Castiel smiled. “Still so smooth, Winchester.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean finally closed the distance between them, capturing Castiel’s lips against his own. “Mmm, you taste like steak sauce.”
Castiel laughed. “Well, someone just challenged me to a filet mignon cook off.”
“Yeah, I heard the guy was robbed.”
“I’m not so sure.” Castiel smirked. “Unless you consider this,” Castiel kissed Dean deeply before pulling away to look at him, “losing.”
“Nah.” Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist. “That’s the best win of all.”
“That’s what I thought.” Castiel took Dean’s hand, leading him towards his dressing room. “Come with me to get my things and then let’s do dinner.”
“Sounds good, Cas.” Dean followed gladly. “I’m coming back for you, by the way.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re gonna have a rematch. I’m taking you down in your fancy TV network kitchen.”
“Is that so?”
“Hell yeah. Count on it, Novak.”