Title: Onions (Chapter 1/13)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby, Chuck/Jo, (later Sam/Jessica)
Word Count: 4,828
Summary: Dean is the pizza man who befriends Castiel, the new doctor in town, after a few onion pizza deliveries.
A/U story. Hopefully no spoilers other than a few quotes and the reference to episode "Caged Heat" 6x10.
"Hey, Dean, you've got three more deliveries for the night," Chuck announced, while scribbling down in his regular notepad.
Dean sighed, impatiently waiting for the pizzas to be packed and ready for the road.
Having this job didn't make Dean happy in the slightest. Not even the ever so often generous tips from the customers made the job worthwhile. He took on the job when no one would hire him after high school. So he might have dropped out two months before his senior year ended and gotten himself a GED instead, but that should not have gotten in the way of getting a real job.
He could hear his pain in the ass younger brother, Sammy, bugging him about actually applying for college, the community college a few miles into the next town. Sure, Dean would like to explore other areas of education, only if he could find the right career path to follow.
Being a mechanic had crossed his mind once or twice, but he gave that up as soon as he realized his dad was technically forcing him into it, and it had stopped being Dean's decision. His dad had gotten over it after a few weeks, though he told Dean he'd never get his job back at the Winchester Auto Shop (and plumbing)—because being a Winchester meant being able to take on every dirty job in the country.
"Dude, are you coming over Friday to watch my busty Asian beauties porn or what?" Ash said, shoving Dean aside behind the counter in the nearly empty Crusty Pizzeria they worked at.
Dean glared at him, squaring his shoulders in a defensive way, but Ash never took a hint. "I told you, man. Dudes don't watch porn together. That's just wrong."
Ash shrugged, chewing on the last bite of his stolen slice of pizza. Because they could get a forty percent discount on the straight-from-Italy- ingredients pizzas, but they could not get them for free. Ash knew this, and so did Dean, but that didn't stop them from ripping apart one of the last few pizzas made for the night and splitting it between them. Sometimes they would offer some to Chuck, or that bitchy girl, Bela, but they were usually too chicken to accept anything they hadn't paid for.
Crowley, the branch manager—also the strict son of a bitch who spent most of his time getting on everyone's murder list—appeared from behind the two of them, fiery eyes fixed on Ash.
The poor guy swallowed down his load of food, making it look painful. "Hi, Mr. McCloud. Working hard, or hardly working?"
Crowley made his usual terrifying growling noise at the back of his throat. It scared the shit out of Dean, but he wouldn't admit it to most people. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Not eating the company's pizza, that's for sure," Ash smiled faintly, seemingly fearless. Dean didn't understand how he could pull that off.
Crowley mumbled some mumbo jumbo in his thick British accent, shaking his head. "Bloody hell. All of you incompetent sabs are draining the world's resources. I wish you would all burn alive. Get back to work, you lazy bastards."
Dean thought he was being too kind today. Maybe he'd finally gotten some.
Ash nodded firmly. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir."
Crowley walked back into his office, and the whole room cooled off from his burning rage. The man could spend most of his day enraged at every single person who locked eyes with him. Just one of the many reasons Dean urgently wanted a better job.
Bela fist punched Dean's back. Dean turned around taken by surprise, but ready to attack, and became utterly disappointed at the fact that yep, Bela was still a girl. He could not hit girls, as much as he wanted to. And he swore to himself that one day, by some miracle of a heavenly angel, Bela would wake up a man, and he would get the extraordinary pleasure of kicking her ass until the next winter.
She formed a tight grin. One of those I-bet-you-can-hate-me-even-more smiles Dean hated. "Pizzas are ready," she leaned in to give him a quick peck on his lips, again, taking him by surprise.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean seriously wondered.
Bela bit her lip seductively, because although Dean hated to admit it, she was hot. And not just to Sammy's standards, but his. Man, did he know how to pick them. Not that Dean liked Bela now, but at some point, he may have wanted to get in those lacey panties of hers. He hadn't seen them before, but he knew his women well enough to categorize them by underwear type.
She pushed the boxes of pizza to Dean. "Just get out. I can't stand the sight of your face."
Dean took the pizzas, heading toward the door. All he wanted was to finish his deliveries and go home after another long day at work.
"Wait, Dean," Chuck called after him. Dean hung his head, retracting his steps, back to the counter.
Chuck looked away from dean, a nervous reaction that Dean was used to. "Could you remind Sam about that…well, he said he would set me up with someone. And I was just ─"
"Sure, Chuck," Dean said, as nicely as possible, considering the size of his headache. "I'll let my brother know to get back to you soon on that."
Chuck smiled, bright and sincere. This is why Dean at least tried being nice to the guy. He had always been on his good side. Well, except for that one time he found a manuscript of a science fiction story he'd written about him and his brother sticking out of his backpack. Dean was a bit freaked out about that, actually thought he'd found his personal stalker, but once Chuck got over his nervous breakdown, he explained what the book was about. Dean had gotten to read it, and even it showed it to Sammy, who immediately became Chuck's number one fan. Since they were around the same age, they hung around together a lot. But ever since Sam had gotten himself a seemingly perfect girlfriend, they stopped talking much.
Dean had become their mediator, and he didn't like that at all.
Without further interruptions, he headed into his classic '67 Chevy Impala, otherwise known as Baby. Sam would tease him about his emotional relationship with his car, but he didn't bother to care. That car was his most precious belonging, the only thing that made him proud, and if showing affection for it was wrong, then he would never be right.
He was glad that for his last run of the night he could drive his own car, instead of that rusty old bug with the logo of the pizza place in big bright letters. Dean had to constantly suffer from extreme embarrassment by being caught driving that piece of crap.
He pulled over at the first two houses, earning himself ten bucks total. It wasn't so bad, though he expected something a little better from the third delivery. The house was on the rich side of town, right before their delivery meter would allow them to take their pizzas. The house was two stories high, glamorous just from the outside, but he could imagine what the inside looked like. He wondered what kind of lucky son of a bitch lived in it. He looked at the receipt in his hand, making sure he was at the right place with the right pizza.
The pizza was simple cheese with onions. He could easily picture the customer waiting the scrumptious meal in his hand. A lonely, horny teenager having to eat his/or her feelings. He took a deep breath, fixing his spikey hair. If he got to flirt a little with whoever was so willing to eat a bunch of onions and unable to kiss anyone, he could get a bigger tip.
He ringed the doorbell and waited with his Colgate smile and puckered, wet lips.
The door opened seconds later, and the person he found at the other side of the door broke any expectation.
The man was about an inch shorter than him, but man that was the last thing to notice about him. Those bright blue, intense eyes could hardly let him notice the bed hair, and those cheekbones. The man looked no more than thirty five, maybe younger, but he was definitely not a horny teenager, though Dean suddenly felt like one. His eyes took possession of him as they x-rayed the man from head to toes, widening at the sight of the shape of his desirable hips and the tempting set of hands next to them.
Dean gulped. "Pizza. It's here."
When was the last time he got this way over a guy? Junior high, maybe? He couldn't even remember his last name anymore. All his mind could process was that the pizza in his hand was not the only thing heating up his body.
The man smiled. He smiled and Dean could feel wobbly legs already. He had to smile back at him. The question was still there, though. How could he find a guy so fucking irresistible?
"I am quite aware of that. I prepaid for it online." The man spoke with such a rough and unexpected voice, making him intimidating, as well as even more…did Dean dare think it? Yeah, he was fucking sexy. He might as well have been gazing at Dr. Sexy M.D. on TV.
Dean gulped, chuckling like a fucking little girl. "Onions." His eyes opened even wider, and he shook his head. "No, wait, that's not what I meant."
The man laughed at him. "Here's a twenty. Thanks for the pizza. The delivery did not take as long as I imagined."
Somehow, they exchanged the pizza box for the money, and Dean could still not act like a normal human being.
"Good night," the man said, slowly shutting the door, but hesitating as he noticed Dean still hadn't moved. Right before the door was entirely closed, he opened it again, a worried look on his mind-numbing face. "Are you alright, Dean?"
Dean froze, heat flowing through every inch of his body. The man knew his name and it sounded like a hallelujah chorus as it escaped his lips. It only took a moment to look down at his shirt and glance at his nametag to solve that mystery. "Yes, I'm fine. I just. Tired, I guess."
The man formed a concerned look on his face, forming a crease on his forehead. "Would you like a glass of water, or something?"
Dean swallowed. Or something? No, he was not about to risk falling into temptation. He'd convinced himself of his clean record, and he could not break it. Who knows what his second brain would make him do if he stepped inside the man's house? Not that he was throwing himself at Dean, but it was more than likely Dean would at least attempt to hump one of his legs like a dog in heat.
"I better get home," he finally said, wiping a bit of sweat with his hand.
The man smiled again. Dean could focus better on his chapped, dry lips and how well he could possibly bring them to life again.
"I'll see you, then." The man shut the door, leaving Dean uncomfortably turned on, and unable to find a straight path to his Baby.
The drive back home was torture. As much as Dean usually loved this part of the night, when he could simply get home, lie down on his bed, play Zeppelin loud enough to infuriate Sammy, and tune in for Dr. Sexy M.D. reruns, tonight he had a worry that wouldn't let him enjoy any of it.
But Dean was a Winchester, and that meant not talking about your feelings. Not sharing with anyone what you were dealing with, those inner battles within him. Although, that didn't mean he wouldn't torment himself about it.
He dropped his keys on the table as he walked inside Sammy's and his new apartment. As soon as his little brother—well, more like overgrown moose brother—turned eighteen, and Dean and him had saved up enough, they'd gotten themselves their own place. It wasn't in the nice part of town, but it was good, it was theirs.
It was more than Dean had when he was eighteen. Now at twenty-three, his only achievement was his pathetic, minimum wage job as a Pizza delivery man.
"Perfect timing," Sam complained, leaning away from his petty girlfriend on the couch. Dean had always gone with his instinct, with the sixth sense he always presumed to have. And whenever he was near Ruby, he got the feeling that his brother would get hurt by the girl.
Dean shrugged off his jacket, mindlessly heading to the kitchen to heat up last night's dinner. He waited silently by the microwave, concentrating on the Chinese print on the container. He was not going to think about the man.
A little ruffling later, Sammy walked Ruby to the door, as Dean shut off the loud noise of their heavy make-out session before their every single departure.
"Tell your brother to loosen up already," Ruby muttered. "I don't bite."
Sammy chuckled. "He'll get over it."
"Seriously, Dean, I'm still waiting on that handshake," she said, right before he heard the opening and closing of the door behind her.
Dean sighed, finally able to breathe in his own home.
Sam stepped into the kitchen, making that frustrated groan after Dean's three-year-old silence treatment. The microwaved beeped, and he took out his chicken lo mein, digging his fork in and heading to his bedroom.
"Dean, this is not okay anymore," Sammy said right before Dean shut the door on his face. There was a part of Dean that selfishly wished his brother was still that lonely, nerdy, plaid-shirt-wearing guy. Then again, he wanted Sam to grow up, be able to make his own choices, and if that meant he should screw up his youth by being with that horrible chick, so be it. Because people learn from mistakes. And he would never get in the way of Sam's learning.
After a few episodes of his favorite show, and a full belly, he decided to talk to his brother. Not to talk about the struggle he was going through by having that lustful moment with a complete stranger (who was a man), or by the way he has only spoken to his girlfriend a couple times through clenched teeth, or because he got the electricity bill and they still haven't paid it. He simply wanted to talk to his brother, about brotherly stuff. Like the good old days.
Sammy was still in the living room, reading one of his novels. He looked up from it as soon as he noticed Dean stepping out of his cave hole.
"You gonna keep ignoring me?" He wondered, and although Dean knew his brother hardly ever held grudges against him, there was a bit of an edge to his words.
Dean fell on the couch, next to Sammy, running a hand through his hair. "What are you reading?"
Sam looked confused, locking eyes with Dean, as if making sure he was really Dean, or just some really talented shape-shifter. "Uh, Wuthering Heights. Why?"
Dean nodded attentively. "School going fine? You're ready to graduate yet?"
Sammy took a hold of Dean's cheek, pulling it as if he were elastic. Dean grunted, slapping his hand away. "Why do you keep looking at me like I'm some kind of alien?"
"Why do you keep asking me about my life?" Sam hissed.
Dean rolled his eyes. "That's the most─you're my brother. We used to talk a lot before."
"Yeah, Dean, back then when I was forced to move around from mom to Dad every weekend after their divorce and you were my ride. It would have made awkward hour-long drives if we didn't talk."
Dean creased his forehead. "So, you're saying you never really wanted to talk to your awesome big bro?"
"Dean, I've always looked up to you. It was you who always left me behind so you could go out with your girlfriends."
Dean could feel the sting of pain in his brother. He just never saw it that way. He thought he and Sammy had their own things going on, and they were perfectly fine all their lives. Until now, when he subconsciously craved for that interaction, and Sam spent most of his time elsewhere.
"I just want to know what your plans are, after graduation," Dean tried, hoping to open up a good conversation with Sam.
He put his book down, shifting towards Dean, sending him a bright, welcoming smile. "I have so many plans. I'll tell you everything."
Dean grinned at him, happy with his attempt to communicate with his one and only sibling. He loved Sam to death. He would give up his life for him, even. And he didn't know how much he'd been missing out all these years. Sammy was filled with goals, excitement about life, his future; he had a great outlook on it. Sam could be whatever he wanted to be, however he wanted it, because he had that perseverance Dean lacked. He had so many qualities that Dean would only dream of.
"I'm going to law school," Sam concluded. Dean couldn't help the proud smile growing on his face. Law fricken school. Sammy was shooting straight for the moon. And knowing him, he'd probably land there sooner than he expected.
Dean went to bed a little after that, dreaming about his brother in a black suit, carrying a fancy briefcase, owning the world. Soon after, his dream turned into a nightmare. Ruby appeared, stealing away his brother's success, lowering him into a pitiful life. And it was all because he didn't break them up early enough.
Ash was smoking inside the pizzeria when Dean walked in. He shook his head, walking past him to clock in. Only five minutes late. Not bad.
As he expected it would happen, Crowley showed up ready to spread his venom. If his hate had a preference, Ash would be the unlucky one to own most of it. Dean sent him a warning glance, but it was too late, Crowley spotted the cigarette in his hands, approaching him in a nerve-racking pace. Malicious eyes were set on the scrawny employee.
Everyone in the room watched impatiently and dreadfully as Ash remained clueless about the situation. He took another puff of his smoke, coughing up a bit. The first one he noticed was Dean, shaking his hands in the air. Ash lifted his head, confused about the sign language. Crowley stood an inch behind him, with a smug expression on his face.
Dean wanted to look away, he really did, but this was better than his regular soaps. The tension was almost solid.
"Mr. Harvelle," Crowley roared.
Ash gulped, pressing the cigarette in his fist, cringing as his palm burned. "Yes, Mr. McCloud?"
"My office. Now."
Ash looked at Dean one last time. His eyes begged for help, but there was nothing Dean could offer to do. He could testify on his behalf, becoming the main witness to his murder, but he doubted that was the type of help Ash wanted.
Crowley turned to Bela, nodding to her once. His beard was longer today, and that was not a good sign. He woke up later than usual and didn't have time to shave, which meant his calm exterior appearance was suppressing down his anger by the minute, and now he had someone to let out all his rage upon.
He walked away, Ash following behind like a broken puppy. He was really gonna get it this time.
Chuck cleared his throat from behind the cash register. Dean turned to him, hoping to get out of the place before the explosion. "Did you talk to Sam?"
Dean frowned, both because of Ash and Chuck. "I forgot to remind him, bud. Tonight I definitely will. Any orders I should get to?"
"Two." Chuck handed him the info and the pizzas that had been sitting there, waiting for Dean to arrive, and he nearly ran out of the building.
After his deliveries, he cruised around town in the company's car. Dean had too much on his mind to focus on work. He realized he was being irresponsible, but he'd never actually been a cautious guy.
He drove by the college campus, circling around the parking lot. He received some sketchy looks from some of the students. His heart pounded faster, just imagining himself walking through the hallways. The campus wasn't a great thing, not by comparison to any Ivy League school, but it could offer a better future than the one he had now. Beyond his own pride, he wanted his parents to be proud of both their sons.
As much as he thought about it, broke his mind trying to figure it out, he couldn't decide on any career he would like. He knew he could start college, regardless. Sam always told him most of the students signed up with undecided majors, but Dean didn't want that. He wanted to have a motivation for college bigger than impressing his parents, or bettering himself.
He simply wanted a clear future ahead of him. A goal he could stick to. Hell, he wanted a purpose for being alive.
After he decided he had been creepy enough for the day, he headed back to work. Thanks to Chuck, Dean had skipped out on work without getting caught many times before. He was hoping that solidarity hadn't escaped him due to him not passing the word to Sammy about hooking him up with someone. Chuck was a nice guy, though. He didn't give him much to worry about.
He opened the door, wondering what he would find on the other side by now. He looked around the room, noticing Chuck in his usual spot, concentrated on his notepad, Bela placing marinara sauce on the pizza dough, along with a few other employees pulling out ingredients, but Ash wasn't around. He honestly wondered if Crowley could get away with homicide.
There were a couple customers sitting at the tables. He headed for the cash register. "Hey, Chuck, what happened?"
Chuck took a deep breath, taking his attention away from his writing. He looked less shaky than usual, so Dean took it as a good sign. "Ash got yelled at for about an hour or two, then he was given a week off without pay. Don't worry. Crowley was too busy with the new guy, Gabriel, to notice you ditched us for half of the day."
Dean grinned, hoping it could count as an apology. "I'll go check up on Ash after work. Sounds like he could use a drinking partner for the night."
Chuck gave a disapproving glance before going back to scribbling. Dean didn't expect anything less; the guy was more religious than the pope.
"I'll talk to Sammy, too," Dean added, hoping to ease his friend's cold attitude. "If he can't arrange anything, I can lend you a hand. You just tell me how you like 'em. Tall? Short? More in the front, more in the back?"
Chuck rolled his eyes, seeming not to want to respond, but he dropped his pen and looked up at Dean again. "When will you understand that it is not about the physical appearance at all? A soul goes beyond the meat suit."
Dean wanted to laugh, but he didn't, because that would have been rude. And Chuck didn't deserve that. Instead, he took a chair in the corner, and waited for his last deliveries to be prepared so he could get back into his Baby and enjoy the rest of his night.
Dean had four deliveries tonight. He went through each one of them sluggishly, having realized halfway through the first one that the last order was for the onion-craving man he literally melted for yesterday.
After his third delivery, he drove pathetically slow, stopping right outside the luxurious residence. He wondered if the man lived alone in that house. It would be a hell of a lonely existence. But something within him told him that if the man had a family to feed, he wouldn't be ordering a small sized cheese and onions pizza.
He collected himself, breathing in and out, becoming convinced that he was as straight as a ruler, and that he could get this fucking delivery done without his dick going stiff. He could do this.
Think of the onions, Dean thought. When the man ate the onion pizza, his breath would stink like rotten eggs afterwards, and if Dean could think of a better turn off, he would.
He couldn't resist running a hand through his hair and smoothing out his features before ringing the doorbell. He tried shifting his weight onto his left leg, but no standing position was comfortable enough with the amount of anxiety he had. He could hear his brain hurrying up the man so he could get this over with and run away to some bar to hook up with the first skirt he saw roaming around.
The door opened centuries later, after Dean could feel sweat on his forehead. Lawrence was always hot, but he couldn't always blame the atmosphere for his temperature.
"Hi, Dean," the man greeted him with strange familiarity. Dean stilled again. Why the fuck could he not act normally around him?
Dean grinned like a clown. "Onions again." He could kill himself at the moment.
"Yes, I happen to love the stinky vegetable." He offered him another twenty. Dean could process the information better tonight, and he knew this was way too big a tip for such a small order. The pizza itself was worth much less.
"You really don't have to," Dean pushed the bill into the man's hand.
He wrinkled his forehead, blue eyes shrinking with the movement. "I know how difficult it must be to drive around all day in one of those confining vehicles delivering pizzas. I could have easily driven there myself, but I chose not to, so I must pay adequately for the service acquired."
Dean stared at the man, lost in the rough, deep tone of his voice. "Yeah, that's. I think that makes sense."
The man looked ahead of Dean; eyes fixed on something that made a huge smile grow on his face. A smile Dean instantly loved on him.
"Is that your car?" He asked.
Baby. Of course. She would win him over without a struggle. It wasn't a competition, but damn did she know how to steal his spotlight.
"That 1967 Chevy Impala? Ah, yeah, she's all mine."
The man arched a brow at Dean, slightly amused at something Dean didn't quite get. "Does she have a name?"
Dean did not flush. "Baby." It slipped his lips as a whisper.
The man looked at Dean, and Dean looked back, and he didn't understand why neither of them looked away for a long moment, but he didn't mind.
"Castiel," he said, "I prefer Cas."
Dean nodded, registering the unique name. He decided it fit this man, because he'd never seen anyone like him before. At least, he'd never been as shaken up by someone as easily as this man, Cas, could do.
"I have to…I need to get going." Dean could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. He was just trying to figure out a way to get his feet moving away from the house and Castiel.
"Alright," Cas murmured, hesitating on the words that followed. "Uh, Dean, don't get too tired of me and my onions. I recently moved in, and I've no time to cook. I have tried many pizzerias from around here, but this is, by far, the best one."
Dean could feel the heat again, his pulse accelerating, and it was all so ridiculous. He should have been able to control himself better. But his body took hold of the news that it would continue to see Cas frequently better than his brain. Because all he wanted was to escape this torture and all his cock wanted was to be freed from his suddenly tight jeans.
"I guess I'll be dosing you with onions for a while," Dean said, immediately wishing he could rewind and redo that entire sentence.
Cas chuckled unexpectedly, making Dean unclench his shoulders, giving him time to readjust himself and finally escape from his presence.
"I suppose so," Cas muttered before─thank heaven─closing the door on him. Dean climbed on Baby, feeling just a little disappointed by not finding himself a girl to fuck until the end of dawn, and rather going to give his friend, Ash, a visit.