AN: This is my Destiel Reverse Bang 2016. My artist is Victorian-Hoecake. I recommend viewing her art via Tumblr. I'm making a masterpost there and via LJ. My Tumblr is spearywritesstuff dot tumblr dot com. Enjoy the food fic.

The oil was ready on the stove. He had diced the onions on the cutting board and scraped them up onto the blade of the knife. He moved them into the oil and set to work on the potatoes. He would cut them into small chunks to cook along with the onions. It would be a simple accompaniment for the eggs that he would scramble. Well, not entirely simple. He'd add some chipotle and a few other spices to give it all some kick. It was certainly not what he would prepare in the evening at his restaurant. There the menu was one of two things: the vegetarian tasting menu or the standard menu complete with seafood, steak, and poultry. His creations were well-received. He changed the menu each week, creating a wholly new experience for his customers each time that they visited.

The smell of the onions wafted up to him. There was nothing quite so pleasing as the scent of them as they cooked to translucency. Cas breathed in the aroma and finished cutting the potatoes. He gave the onions a little stir then began cracking the eggs to whisk up into a vibrant yellow, like liquid sunshine. The eggs weren't from the supermarket. He had a guy that would deliver them from his farm outside of the city. He treated his chickens well. They had acres of land to roam. They were fed a diet that included what they could scavenge from the land, like bugs and seeds, while also getting additional organic feed. The result, Cas thought, was a much more enjoyable flavor, a more vibrant color, and the secondary enjoyment that came from knowing that his food was coming from somewhere ethical.

He added the potatoes to the onions and gave them a stir. He readied a skillet to begin cooking his eggs and glanced at the window. The sunlight streaming in was still tinged with sunrise pinks and the distant hint of the fading night. It reminded him to hurry a bit. He hated that this time of the day had become something else for him in recent months. He had enjoyed the quiet, the anticipation of an evening spent doing what he loved. Now it was a thing of frustration. He needed a sous chef, among other things.

Uriel had worked with him from the beginning. The restaurant was all Cas Novak, but Uriel was the support system that kept it all from feeling like work. He had a quick sense of humor that many would view as rather dry. He was organized and efficient. The employees respected him and had just enough fear of him that they would rarely step out of their roles. He wrote up schedules for everyone that held no room for compromise. They were either able to do as he expected or they were no longer employed. In that way, Novak's pumped out food and high quality dining experiences for over a year. Then Uriel quit.

Uriel quitting would have been bad enough. He didn't just quit though; he took people with him. He was starting his own restaurant on the other end of town. He needed a staff, and some of Cas' best employees followed. Cas felt betrayed and also a little like he had failed rather spectacularly in the likability department if his employees were so willing to rush off to Uriel's new place. If that wasn't bad enough, Uriel also had the nerve to ask Cas if he wanted to give up his restaurant, and start anew with him as his sous chef. It made no sense. Cas laughed at him, and then glared at him as he pointed out the door that he could haul himself out of.

In the end he lost four servers, his best host, two dishwashers, and his general manager. It was bad. There was no kind of notice either. He had to bring in temporary staff on the night that it had happened. At least Uriel had done it on a Sunday. They were closed on Monday, and could scramble for help in a pinch. Sunday though had been bad, so bad.

Cas had swiftly promoted Charlie, a young, energetic red-head to the role of sous chef. She survived, barely. What was tough was watching Kevin take over her work as head baker as this was not his skill-set. He was a not trained for the job in the slightest. She ended up doing both jobs in a haphazard rush that had her darting in and out of the fridge with heavy cream one minute and fresh greens in the next. Cas had watched her plating of the chicory salad with persimmons and pecans. It was messy and over dressed. The vinaigrette would be less than pleasing to whomever was the recipient. In the end, Cas had also had to do two jobs that night as well.

Charlie was glad to be demoted back to her old role as head baker. Kevin was pulled into the role of sous chef, while Cas waited for eager workers to flock to his restaurant for interviews. They came and went. He found none of them to be particularly good. They'd be better than what he had currently with Kevin or Charlie, but he didn't want a temporary solution. Kevin would maybe last another couple of days, but Cas couldn't see putting just anyone into the role. Then Katja showed up with a glowing recommendation and talent. It also worked to her advantage that Cas had been binge-watching Downton Abbey, and she looked a lot like Mrs. Patmore. He hired her almost immediately. He didn't question why she left her last job, or why she wanted to work for him. The interview, after looking over her resume, merely consisted of what can you do, and when can you start. To which she had answered, everything and now.

Cas had been pleased at first. Katja though was a stern taskmaster. It didn't take long for Cas to see that she would inevitably be a problem. She was mean, and spoke to those in the back of the house like they were barely worthy of breathing in her vicinity. She bustled around the back, hip-checking people that got in her way. She hip-checked Cas once, and got a glare. She gave it right back, and Cas almost let her go. Then he remembered his position, and how he didn't have time to build his staff back up properly while looking for yet another sous chef.

That had been a mistake. She had asserted her dominance and had won. Cas tried to ignore it. He wanted to fall back in love with his restaurant, with the joy of cooking. He hired on a new host, a woman named Anna who said she had prior experience, but had been out of the scene for a time. He liked her honesty and kind eyes and took another chance. The dishwashers had been easily replaced. The server vacancies were filled a week later. Three weeks after Uriel left and the place was back to being nearly as it was before. Yet, it also wasn't.

No one was particularly happy anymore. Cas was perhaps the most unhappy of all. Now he sat in his apartment, looking out at a sunrise sky, eating eggs and potatoes, dreading what had once been a pleasure. Katja had gotten worse. She yelled at him in front of his employees. He began looking for a replacement in secret. He couldn't have her quit before he was ready. At the same time, he couldn't have her undermining his role in the restaurant either. She treated him like he was a child and not her boss. He was taking his time in his search for her replacement though. He did not want to end up in a repeat of his current situation.

Friday nights at Novak's were always busy. This Friday would be no different. They had reservations that had been on the books for over a month. Cas felt a sense of pride as he considered this. Here he was, successfully running his own place, finally. Even with the setbacks, it was a worthy accomplishment. Then Katja's voice, shrill and loud, pierced the quiet. They were closed so it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but still, he did not like what he was hearing. They'd be opening for dinner in under an hour, and yelling usually meant that something was horribly awry.

He slowly moved himself from the front of the restaurant to the back. Katja was yelling at Charlie. She had apparently hip-checked Charlie, and Charlie had had enough. "How dare you talk to me that way." Katja was puffing herself out, pressing Charlie back toward the fridge.

"How dare you? You're the one with the problem. You're the one that seems to think it's okay to practically knock a person out of your way. I had a crate of eggs and a veritable ton of fruit in my hands. You had nothing. You could have moved." Charlie's face was flushed.

Katja moved closer to her. Charlie had nowhere to go. "I've half a mind to remove you from the schedule. I don't need this type of insubordination in my kitchen."

Charlie seemed to find her nerve and pushed herself from the wall, sending Katja back a step. "Good luck with that. Pretty sure you don't have a head baker with my skills just laying around for a Friday night shift." She pushed past Katja with a smirk and made her way to her station. She caught Cas' eye and raised a brow.

He moved to her side. "You okay?"

Katja was watching this interaction. "Yeah. Be nice if you fixed the problem though."

He glanced over at Katja. It was Friday. He needed her for the weekend at least. He couldn't do the busiest days without her. He walked over to her and asked if she could come to his office for a chat. "I'm busy." She stepped past him brusquely.

"It wasn't really a request, Katja." Cas waited for her to turn around. She didn't. She just marched off to her station and began preparing the food for the night. He glanced over at Charlie who had let out an audible sigh and returned her focus to her own station as well.

He made a choice then to let it go just a little longer. He could handle a few more days, get someone hired first. He just had to make a real effort toward getting this done and getting her out.

Cas had started spending occasional evenings at a small bar and grill down the street from his place. It was called the Roadhouse and it was the absolute antithesis of everything that his own restaurant was. For one, it was in the most run-down building he had ever seen. Secondly, it was loud and carried that biker-bar vibe that should have driven him away immediately. It had the opposite effect though. Maybe it was the constant stream of abuse that he had experienced near Katja that had made this place appealing. Maybe it was the smell of something mouth-wateringly good that wafted out the door that first convinced him to go on inside. When his night ended at Novak's, it was all he could do to keep from rushing out. He used to eat a late dinner there, have a nightcap, and head home with dreams of what he'd put on the menu next. Katja ruined that peaceful existence. However, it had led to him finding the Roadhouse, and that wasn't a bad thing at all.

It had been after a particularly trying Tuesday night complete with Katja's usual brand of cruelties. He decided to walk home to clear his head. That had brought him to the Roadhouse the first time. He went in and found a lone booth in a dark corner. A harried woman came to his table and tossed a menu down in front of him. "You want a drink?"

"Sure. You got a stout on tap?" Cas glanced over at the bar and noted the beers that others were drinking, all I.P.A.s he assumed.

"Yeah, I got one. Be right back with that." She stalked off slipping a tip off of a table as she passed. A guy at the bar reached out to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in. "You best be letting me work, or I'll have to cut you off, ya old geezer." Her words held no menace, but he did let her go, and she continued on to the other side of the bar.

Something smelled amazing. In fact, as he glanced around the room, he noticed that everyone had virtually the same thing. One of the guys across from him was lifting a large cheeseburger to his mouth. Cas felt his own mouth water. His waitress came back and set his beer on the table. "Thanks."

"Yeah, you want some food, or just the beer?" She asked as she glanced over at the next table.

"I'll take one of the cheeseburgers." He pushed the menu over to her, and she scooped it up and walked off toward the kitchen.

He heard her call out into the back, "Dean, 'nother cheeseburger."

"Got it," the reply came back through the tiny opening between them. Cas watched the space. He was always amused by the way restaurants laid out their work stations, but in this moment he wanted to see the cook. He wanted to make assumptions about what kind of person would choose to work in a place like this. He needed a face to pair with that assumption. Moments later and he was given the vision.

The man called Dean moved past the opening in a tight blue t-shirt and white apron. His hair was light brown and neatly trimmed. His smile seemed out of place in the Roadhouse. It was bright and cheery in the darkness. Cas found himself staring with unabashed interest. Then Dean started singing. Another voice came out of the back, "I'll quit, I swear to God, Dean if you don't stop that." Dean just laughed and tossed something behind him, that Cas couldn't see. He kept singing.

Cas hadn't realized that he was still staring until Dean glanced out the little window into the bar. Their eyes locked and Cas quickly turned away, choosing to gulp down a bit of his beer as a distraction. He took a chance a few moments later and looked back. Dean was still visible; although, he wasn't staring out at Cas now. Cas let his gaze linger again, and when Dean moved to set a plate of food on the window ledge he caught Cas' eye again. His lip curled up into a half grin. He reached over and tapped the little bell signifying that the plate was ready for pick-up.

Cas looked away again, and told himself to focus on his beer. The waitress came and set the food in front of him. "Dean says you're kinda famous."

Cas was startled by her words. "Huh?"

She nodded back to the kitchen and said, "Dean, the cook, he says you're kinda famous."

"I'm not, but, uh, thanks I guess." The woman wandered off to the bar, and Cas picked up the cheeseburger. It was almost too big. I'm gonna need a bigger mouth. He squeezed it down a little and took a bite. It was so much better than he had expected. The meat was seasoned with a hint of cumin, some garlic, and had a nearly crisp outer layer made from what he decided was BBQ sauce that had been applied before the meat met the grill. Even the sauce was something worthy of note. He chewed the bite with careful attention to detail. He thought that there was lemon pepper, and maybe honey in the mix. He took another bite and felt his eyes roll back into his head with the ecstasy of it.

This bit of nirvana was his for nearly ten minutes. He tried not to rush through the joy of the meal. Instead each bite was treated as a gift, and also a mystery to be unravelled. He wasn't sure, but he thought that the pickles were made in-house. He had not expected such attention to detail in a place like this. As he finished the last bite, a shadow fell over his table. "So, how was it?"

Cas glanced up at the cook. He felt suddenly self-conscious. He was normally rather confident, even a bit of a badass, but the months with Katja, and the losses that came from Uriel leaving had taken some of that out of him. He found his voice though. "So good. It might be my new favorite thing."

"Cheeseburgers, huh? Guess you don't serve those in your place." Dean took the bench seat across from him without invitation. Then seeming to sense a rudeness, he asked, "Oh, you mind?"

"Not at all. You know who I am?" Cas leaned back from the plate a little.

"Yeah, you own Novak's. I read the reviews that come out whenever a new place pops up. It always interests me. I recognized you from the picture that they ran with the piece." Dean's eyes darted over to the bar. He gave the waitress a little wave, and she gave him a little nod in return.

"You've got a good memory. That was over a year ago. Have you tried the place out?" Cas picked up his beer and took a sip. It was nearly done and he wondered if he should order another.

The waitress set a beer in front of Dean. It was the color of Dean's hair. Hoppy, Cas thought as he noted the type. Dean took a sip of the beer and said, "Haven't been able to afford your place yet. It's on my bucket list." He smiled across the table at him, and Cas felt it stir through him.

"Well, I happen to know the owner, and if you wanted to try out a dish, I'd likely be able to get you in at a discounted rate." What am I doing? He felt the old confidence though filling him up, and he was liking it.

Dean replied, "I might just take you up on that; although, seems like you kinda put a lot of effort into the whole experience. I should probably just save up and try the whole thing out."

"Pretty sure I can arrange for that." He thought about the unpleasant things that he still needed to deal with there and his face fell a little. "I reckon you should probably wait about a month though until I work out the staffing issues. I feel like I'm not exactly doing my best work there lately."

Dean's face conveyed a bit of sympathy. "Bummer. Well, if you're hiring, I know some good people that could use a leg up. Place like yours would be a great place for them."

"Well, I'm still looking for a general manager to run the front of the house, someone good with numbers and such. Also, I have this sous chef that is a nightmare." Cas looked around the room as if Katja might materialize at any moment.

"You need a sous chef," Dean smiled at him as he said it past his beer.

"Yeah, I need a sous chef," Cas replied.

Dean laughed a little. "We just had a little Star Wars moment there."

"Yeah, too bad you don't need work. Your burger was sublime." Cas picked up a french fry and traced a line through some ketchup before eating it.

"Well that's a first. Nobody ever called my food that before." Dean seemed to become suddenly shy. He drank his beer and slowly set it back on the table in front of him.

"Dean." He waited for eye contact and was rewarded. "Don't you know your food is amazing? I mean, this is literally the best thing I've eaten in, well, I don't even know how long."

"That's doubtful, but thanks anyway. I'm a short order cook, a fry cook. I'm nothing special. Anyone can do this." He ran a hand back up through his hair and looked away again.

"No, Dean. What you have here is something worthy of being savored. Your efforts with something that could have been a simple burger, speak to your love of food. You've done good things here, and I for one, plan to come back often for just this." He tapped the side of the plate and smiled at Dean's surprised expression.

Cas got up then and pulled a twenty and some ones out of his wallet. He set them on the table near his plate. It was getting pretty late, and he was going to suffer for his evening come morning. Didn't matter though, as he'd do it again for that meal. And the company wasn't half bad either.

He didn't go in on Saturday, but he made a solid commitment to himself to go in on Sunday night. Sundays were his sweet spot. He could sleep in a little the next morning; he didn't though, and he could let his mind think of pleasant things without interruption. Even Sunday morning was rather joyous for him, because he had already decided that the evening would end at the Roadhouse. He wondered if Dean worked that night. Suppose I'll find out.

Cas had found his thoughts wandering often to the meal he had that night, to the nuanced flavors coaxed into the meat, to the obvious love poured into making a meal the way that it should be made. He wanted to try other meals made by Dean, but he also just wanted to order another cheeseburger. Sunday passed swiftly. Katja was awful, but not unbearable. He tuned her out for the most part and sailed through the night.

When they finally closed, he delegated tasks to his employees and headed out. It wasn't like him. He would normally linger, leave after everyone else had ventured out. He was done though, so done. He felt the brisk night air on his face and sucked in a deep cool revitalizing breath of air. He got to the Roadhouse and slowed his last few steps. The door opened and a couple moved out to the sidewalk and away from Cas. It set him in motion again. He propelled himself to the door and inside.

There was a jukebox in the corner playing old 80's rock. It hadn't been playing the last time that he had been there, but it was loud enough to make up for that tonight. He made a beeline for his corner table. He had already started thinking of it as his. He glanced over at the kitchen, looking for Dean through the opening. He didn't see Dean, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of his singing mixing with the hard fast tunes coming from the jukebox. Cas smiled and took a seat.

The waitress from the other night came to his table and asked if he wanted a menu. Cas glanced over at the kitchen and saw Dean move past the opening. "Just a cheeseburger and a beer," he replied.

"The stout, right?" she asked as she turned toward the bar.

"Yep. Thanks." Cas pulled out his phone and brought up his menu for the next week. He considered some modifications to his offerings. He had a parmesan foam on one item, and he was frankly over it. Everybody and their brother seemed to be making everyday foods into foams now. He wanted to steer clear of that. He started to delete the item and then glanced back at the kitchen again. There was another man in the kitchen. He was standing alongside Dean singing to whatever was pounding out of the jukebox. He had a lovely voice. His southern drawl edged each syllable. Cas found himself smiling when Dean joined him on the next verse, too loud and way off key.

The other man stopped singing at one point, but he wasn't upset. He knocked his shoulder into Dean goodnaturedly and went back to whatever he was doing. Dean looked up when that happened and caught Cas' eye. He said something to the guy next to him. Now they were both looking at him. Cas gave them both a little wave and felt glad for the distraction that the waitress provided when she returned with his beer. "Bet you didn't know you were getting entertainment with your meal this evening." She seemed less harried this evening than she had the other night.

"Nothing about this place was expected." Cas took a sip of the beer.

"Yeah, it's got its fans. You fixin' to become a regular?" She smiled.

"Well, like I told Dean the other night, the burgers alone are worth the price of admission. He's quite talented." Cas looked past the waitress to the back again.

"Yeah, we all had to hear about that after you left. Boy wouldn't shut-up about it. You give him too many compliments like that, and he'll be asking me for a raise." She thrust out a hand. "Name's Ellen, by the way. This here's my place."

"Oh, I thought you just worked here. Didn't know you owned it too." Cas shook her hand and added, "It's a great place."

"Well, it ain't much to look at, but it has some perks. Been pretty lucky too. Got Dean filling in while Ash is off with his bum knee." She glanced around to see if anyone was needing her.

"So Dean doesn't always work here?"

"He's been here off and on for a while. I'd keep him on permanently if I could, but Ash will be back, and I don't really need that many cooks. Plus, Dean always lands on his feet. His Pops will likely want him back in his little universe, but if I were him, I'd stick to this path. Boy knows what he's doing."

"That's for sure," Cas agreed. Ellen wandered away from him back to the bar and her customers. Cas thought about what she said. Plans were already forming. The song on the jukebox changed, and he glanced toward it. Dean was wandering out of the kitchen. He had a cheeseburger plated in his hand. He was making his way to Cas' booth. When he got to the table and set down the food, Cas said, "So you always deliver the food you cook?"

"Nah, only for the celebrities." He took a seat across from Cas again and gave Ellen a little wave. She nodded and started filling a pint glass of beer.

"Absolutely not a celebrity."

"Better known than I am." Dean grinned.

"Is that the standard of measurement for celebrities? Better known than Dean…" He paused a second, then added, "I don't know your last name."

"Winchester." He reached over and shook Cas' hand as if they hadn't met yet.

"Well, now at least I know the whole name." He looked down at his plate and said, "Well, Dean Winchester, this burger should be famous." He picked it up then and took a bite.

Dean watched him for a bit, and Cas tried not to feel self-conscious about it. Ellen brought his beer and set it on the table. "Ya leave Benny to do all of your clean-up?"

"I took care of my part. Plus, I haven't left yet. Just takin' a little break." Dean's eyes crinkled up a little at the edges as he smiled, and he was certainly smiling at Ellen now. She whipped him with her little counter rag and went around the room wiping off tables.

"Are you supposed to be shutting down the kitchen or something?" Cas asked between bites.

"Not entirely. We just get fewer foodies in here after 10, so we start cleaning up. My kitchen is always clean anyway, so it takes nothing to end the night. Plus, Benny doesn't mind. He'd have done the whole thing when Ash got hurt, but Ellen didn't want to overwork him. Weekends can get busy, as you've seen." Dean drummed at the table a little along with the new song playing on the jukebox.

"What'll you do when Ash comes back? Ellen said something about working with your dad." Cas took another bite from the burger and waited.

"Oh, she say anything else about me when you were talking?" Dean looked suddenly a little nervous.

Cas let his lip curl up into a half grin and said, "A few things."

Color started rise up into Dean's cheeks. "Whatdidshesay?" He ran the words together like one giant mumbled bit of mush.

"Oh nothing really, just that you went on and on about some things after I left. Told me not to compliment your food too much. Said you might ask for a raise." Cas smiled at the effect his words had. The song on the jukebox noticeably changed then. They both turned to it, and the guy from the kitchen, Benny, was standing there, grinning like he had done something mischievous.

"Shit, Benny." Dean pressed his palms to his eyes and shook his head. The song, "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You" started playing. Dean was rolling his eyes. He turned to Cas and said, "They think they're funny."

Cas didn't know what to say to that. He watched Benny reach out a hand to Ellen, and she moved to him. He danced with her in the empty space in front of the jukebox. A couple of the customers hooted and whistled. Benny gave her a needless dip, as the song was really too slow for any of that. Benny hollered over at Dean, "Ya gonna make us be the only ones dancing in here?"

"This ain't a dancing bar Benny," Dean hollered back. He looked back at Cas and added, "They're a hoot."

"Yeah, Ellen seemed nice. I'll have to take your word for it on Benny." Cas finished off the last bite of his burger and let the flavor linger in his thoughts. "You changed a spice in the burger."

"You can tell?" Dean tipped his head to the side with a grin. He hadn't really stopped smiling since he got to the table except for that one moment when he asked what Ellen had been saying about him.

"I am a celebrity after all. I know my food." Cas laughed a little as he said it. Dean laughed too.

"So, is the offer still on the table from the other night?" Cas tried to recall what he had offered the other day and was drawing a blank. Dean seemed to see the confusion and added, "I mean if I stop by maybe sometime around the end of the week to try out a dish at Novak's, would that be okay?"

Cas considered his bookings and knew that he had nothing that he could move around to accommodate Dean. "I'm booked up solid for the next month, but if you don't mind an incredibly late meal, I could make that work easily."

"Oh, I don't want to put you out. I was just thinking…"

Cas interrupted him then, "You're not putting me out. I offered. What day were you thinking?"

"Sunday, maybe. With Benny here, I'm not needed quite as much, so I can jump out a little early." Dean ran a hand back up into his hair. "You still having issues with your sous chef?"

"Many." He let out a long held sigh. "Hopefully, I can get her figured out by then. Either way, she won't be there after hours, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"So if I pop in say around 10:30, that would be okay?" Dean took a sip of his beer, and something in the action seemed like he was covering for nervousness.

Cas just smiled at him a beat, leaned in, and said, "Bring your appetite." His voice was low and a bit gravely. Dean swallowed his beer audibly.

"Will someone be around the front to let me in?" Dean set down his beer and moved his hands to the underside of the table.

"I'll keep an eye out for you. Hmm…" Cas rummaged around in his pockets for a piece of paper. He didn't have any. "Got a cell phone?"

"Yeah."

"Mind if I add my contact info.?" Cas held out his hand for the phone. Dean leaned to the side and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He turned it on and swiped his finger over the front. He took a few more moments and then handed the phone over, the screen already set to the contact page.

"Should I text you after so you have my information as well?"

"Of course. I was pretty much going to do it on your behalf as soon as I was done entering my information anyway." Cas glanced up and caught Dean's look. He seemed surprised. Was that the look? Shocked? Confused. Whatever it was, Cas couldn't quite get a read on what he was seeing. "Having you text me though, means that I get to watch you awkwardly try to figure out what to message someone while they are sitting a mere two feet away."

He handed the phone back over, and Dean's hand seemed to shake a little as he snatched it back.

"Hey it's Dean Winchester," Dean said aloud as he typed in the words, hitting send at the end. "How's that for awkward?"

Cas' phone buzzed with the new message. It read, Hey Assbutt. Cas looked up at Dean then and caught the half grin on Dean's face as he got up from the table. "Hey Assbutt?"

"You wanted awkward." Dean shrugged. He moved off toward the kitchen then turned back and said, "Looking forward to Sunday."

"Me too." Cas had plans. He thought of adding, it's a date to his me too, but that didn't go along with his plans, just his momentary desires. What he was really thinking was that he could test Dean out, see just what he was capable of.