Chapter Text
epilogue
“Should’ve bought one more slice,” Dean says, sprinkling the table in front of him with crumbles when he talks. “We could’ve shared it.”
Castiel shakes his head with a smile. “I’ve had enough, Dean.”
“Aw, okay,” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “I’d eat it myself.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t get to judge me, babe. It’s pie.”
“I know, Dean.”
“You do not say ‘no’ to pie.”
“I know,” Castiel repeats, “he is quite charming.”
Dean sends him a dirty look. “So I’ve noticed. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? You know, if you keep feeding him so often, he’s not gonna be able to hop anymore soon.”
“Okay,” Castiel says with a nod. “Here, you can finish my slice.”
Dean grins at him, pulls Castiel’s plate towards himself, and stuffs his mouth with the entire big chunk that’s left. Castiel laughs fondly and watches him struggle with it for a moment.
Finally, Dean swallows everything and smacks his lips with a pleased sigh. “What time is it?”
Castiel glances at the clock hanging on the wall on the other side of the breakroom. “We’ve got five more minutes.”
“Awesome,” Dean says and smiles. “C’mere.”
Castiel doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Dean kissing him — everytime it happens, no matter if it’s been days or weeks or months since their first kiss — Castiel’s skin tingles pleasantly, head swimming, warmth spreading all over his body. This time is no different, and when Castiel licks eagerly into Dean’s mouth and lets himself be snuggled closer, he can distinctly taste the buttery crust of the pie Dean’s just finished eating. Dean smells like cold winter wind and cinnamon and Castiel wishes he could just melt against him and forget about the world around them.
Unfortunately, they’re both on lunch break and there’s still a couple of hours at work before they can return home and go to bed.
Ten minutes later, Dean is kissing Castiel against the wall of the backroom when Dean’s phone vibrates in his pocket.
“Shit,” Dean mutters, pulling away. “Sorry. I really have to go now.”
Castiel drags Dean in by the shirt and presses one last kiss against his lips. “Four more hours.”
“Yeah,” Dean mumbles and nuzzles against his cheek. “We still on for pizza tonight?”
“Yes,” Castiel says. He falls back against the wall and looks at Dean with a smile. “If you want, I can stop by the bakery and buy the rest of that pie.”
“Christ, you’re perfect,” Dean gasps and grins at him. “Get some of that pecan one as well, will you?”
“Mhmm.” Castiel nods, and he doesn’t have enough self-restraint to stop himself from leaning forward and catching Dean’s lips with yet another kiss. Apparently, neither does Dean, though, and soon Castiel is being pinned against the wall, Dean’s hands sneaking into Castiel’s hair and Dean’s clever tongue in Castiel’s mouth—
“Novak! Stop making out and get back to work!”
Hearing Billie’s loud voice from behind the closed door, they both pull away, giggling. Dean’s hand slides out from Castiel’s hair and he brushes his thumb against Castiel’s cheek with fondness.
“See you at home, Cas,” he whispers, drops a kiss to Castiel’s nose, and leaves the room.
When Castiel gets back to the front of the bar, it’s with a blush, tingling lips, and a big smile on his face. Rowena winks at him from where she’s pouring a beer for a customer and Meg rolls her eyes and pushes a tray of dirty glasses at him.
“That’s ten minutes overtime, Casanova,” she says. Castiel nods and gets to work. He doesn’t mind — and he knows his coworkers don’t really mind, either. And it’s not like it happens everyday, but Dean’s been working night shifts for the last week and Castiel has really, really missed him. He’s quite sure the feeling is mutual.
He’s deep in his thoughts, up to his elbows in the foam as he washes the dirty beer glasses, when a curious voice attracts his attention. When he looks up, he notices a flustered-looking woman with a young girl in her arms. Both of them are looking straight at him, but while the mother looks away guiltily, the child just continues gaping.
“Um. Hello?” Castiel asks, uncertain.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman mumbles awkwardly. “Come on, Hailey, let’s not bother the nice man,” she says to her daughter in a hushed voice.
“But moooom, I wanna see it!” the girl squawks. She keeps staring at Castiel with eyes big and Castiel feels an overwhelming urge to cover his face. He doesn't have his scarf anymore, though, and the dishtowel is definitely too wet now.
“I said no, Hailey. Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Can I help you?” Castiel asks.
The mother sends him a horrified look. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “For bothering you.”
“It’s alright,” he says. “Is there something you needed?” The bar gets a fair share of different guests, but children this young are a rarity.
The woman flushes. “Oh. It’s just. There’s been this article.”
Castiel realises what she’s talking about even before she can continue. He breathes in, more surprised than anything else, and notices a fluffy toy in the girl’s arms. A big, round, pink fluffy pig.
It’s been awhile since he’s met one of those. The article and Bartholomew’s picture attracted a few people very interested in seeing him with their own two eyes, but fortunately no one got too serious about it. Castiel was happy to answer some of their questions but, in the end, there wasn’t anything he could really do.
“—I told Hailey a million times, but I’m sure you know how kids are — and those are just her favourites, I mean she just adores them — if you could see her room—”
“I wanna see it,” Hailey repeats, stares at Castiel, and then frowns. “Where is it?”
“She loved that picture of yours, the one in the newspaper a few weeks back,” the woman whispers. “Got so excited. I really tried to make her forget but—”
“It’s alright,” Castiel says and smiles regretfully. “I’m afraid you’re too late, though.”
The woman’s face stays carefully blank, but the girl’s mouth turns into a pout. “Show me the nose!” she calls.
Castiel chuckles and taps the side of his nose. “Here it is, my friend. I’m very sorry this is not what you’ve been expecting.”
“What happened?” the mother asks, seemingly unable to hide her curiosity. “What does it mean?”
Castiel shrugs. “It means I’m free,” he says, and smiles.