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It’s the day before Dean’s birthday, and Cas is alone in the bunker. It hadn’t been easy to get Dean out of the way either. First he had to let Sam in on his plan. Then he called Charlie, had her plant a few invented news stories on the internet that would look to Dean to be a potential haunting a few hours away. Next he had to call Garth and get Garth to call Dean to give him a heads up to the hoax haunting. He threw in a prayer to his absent Father that the kind yet bumbling hunter wouldn’t give his plan away. Then when Dean came to their bedroom to invite Cas along on the hunt, he had to feign illness, which wasn’t very difficult, the memory of his first cold only a few weeks prior still unpleasantly fresh in his mind. And then he had to convince Dean to go ahead and take the hunt without him, that he would be fine, and promised he would call if he got any sicker. The guilt he had over lying to Dean, and making him worry, was gnawing at him, but he knew it would be worth it.
Currently he’s in the massive kitchen, the iPad Sam gave him propped up on a stand as he watches an instructional video on how to bake the perfect cherry pie on Youtube. He prepares the filling using frozen cherries, and sets it aside, pleased with how easy it is to prepare Dean’s favorite dessert. He turns on the ancient oven to preheat.
Then he goes to make the crust, and takes back everything he had just thought about the ease of the task at hand. Cutting Crisco into flour is messy. Cracking an egg without crushing the shell is near impossible. Then there’s all the mixing, and mixing, and everything seems determined to stay separated into little clumps until finally, magically it all combines. Then chilling, and waiting, and rolling, and flipping, and rolling, and damn Dean Winchester and his stupid fucking pie!
By the time Cas carefully presses the crust into the pie tin he’s filthy, covered in flour and sweat, bits of egg shell somehow caught in his hair, Crisco smeared across his cheek making his skin crawl. All he wants is a long bath and his hunter’s big strong arms. But, Dean isn’t there, because Cas sent him away. All because he wanted to do something special for Dean’s birthday. He thinks longingly of the pre-made, frozen pies that he saw at the grocery store, but reminds himself that it means more if he makes it himself, at least that’s what he read when he googled ideas for a romantic birthday gift.
Once the pie is in the oven, Cas runs upstairs to take a quick shower, saving kitchen cleanup for after.
He returns to the kitchen, towel dried hair mussed, dressed in green plaid flannel pajama bottoms, fuzzy slippers shaped like cats, a t-shirt Sam bought him that has a picture of the universe with an arrow that says “You Are Here.” and Dean’s grey bathrobe (that still smells like the hunter, whiskey, motor oil, and if you ask Cas, undistilled sex appeal). He makes his way into the room just in time to hear the timer he set on his iPad start beeping, and pulls on oven mitts to set the pie on a rack to cool. He reluctantly sheds the robe, carefully placing it folded on a stool, and goes about cleaning and returning the kitchen to the pristine order he knows Dean prefers.
Once he’s satisfied that the kitchen is spotless, he pulls the robe back on, leaves the pie to finish cooling, and heads to their bedroom to prepare the rest of his gift. He decides to forgo candles, because fire has a pretty shitty history for Dean, and instead settles on the bed to begin pulling rose petals from stems. He gathers the silky red petals in a bowl to spread out the next day, and cuts the tags from the slinky midnight blue satin nightie and matching lace panties he purchased to wear for Dean, because while the hunter is surprisingly vanilla, he has a lingerie kink that Cas will never refuse to indulge, not when his hunter responds so nicely to Cas in bits of satin and lace. He wraps the lingerie in tissue paper and places it inside a gift box that he wraps in Batman wrapping paper, then tucks the gift away under the bed.
Even though it’s late, he isn’t tired, so he lays back on the bed and texts Dean. When his boyfriend doesn’t reply after fifteen minutes, Cas assumes that he must be sleeping, and decides to head back downstairs to watch some television until he’s ready for bed.
Cas falls asleep halfway through a ridiculous, completely untrue documentary about aliens on the History channel. He wakes up not long after to the sound of the front door closing, and heavy footsteps crossing the floor.
Dean is loud and grumbling, “Stupid false lead” Cas hears, and “waste of time” and his heart swells when he hears Dean in a quieter voice say “hated leaving Cas when he’s sick.”
Then he hears Dean go, “Does it smell like pie in here to you?” and he hears Sam stammer, trying not to give anything away, and Cas panics because the damn pie is still out on the counter, and Dean is home early, and he’s so frantic he rolls right off the sofa with a loud “Oof!”
Footsteps thunder into the room, Dean, worrying and crouching, and “Babe, are you ok?” as he sits and pulls Cas up and into his lap.
Cas nuzzles his face into Dean’s neck, “I’m fine.” he rumbles, still waking up, “You’re home early, thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”
Dean kisses Cas on top of his head and replies, “It was a false lead, and I missed you, couldn’t leave my angel here sick by himself, so I drove straight back.”
Cas pulls back just enough to give Dean a gummy smile, “Missed you too.”
Dean looks at Cas’ smile, and at his nose which is suspiciously not red, and at his eyes which don’t look the slightest bit glassy with fever. He thinks about the smell of pie, and Cas can see realization dawn on Dean’s face.
“It was you! You conniving little sneak!”
Cas looks sheepish, casts his eyes down toward the floor. Dean tips Cas back up to look him in the eye, and kisses his angel hard on the mouth. As Dean’s tongue begs entrance Cas lets a happy sigh out against Dean’s lips. All too soon, so far as Cas is concerned, Dean pulls back from the kiss.
“Did you set up a fake hunt just so you could give me a birthday surprise?”
Cas blushes and nods.
Dean squeezes him in a tight embrace, “You didn’t have to.”
Cas scoffs, one of the new human things he’s picked up, and Dean can’t help but let out a happy laugh.
“How’d you know it was a false lead?’ Dean asks.
“I had Charlie plant the stories.” Cas smirks.
Dean laughs again, and kisses Cas, pulls back and presses their foreheads together, “I love you.”
“I love you.” Cas replies, easy as breathing.
“So, you made me a pie?”
Cas nods again, smiles.
Dean helps Cas up off the floor, then clambers up after him, “Show me.”
Cas grasps Dean’s hand and tugs him along to the kitchen, where he proudly gestures at the pie.
It looks like something out of a culinary magazine, and Dean is so impressed that he squeezes Cas’ hand and murmurs quiet like they’re somewhere holy, “It’s perfect.”
Cas can’t help but preen at the compliment, and Dean nuzzles their noses together.
They end up sitting at stools pulled up to the counter and eating the pie straight from the tin, sure to leave some for Sam who has already gone to bed, exhausted by the late hour.
After, as Cas kisses bits of cherry filling off of Dean’s lips he whispers, “Happy birthday.”
Dean replies, with an easy lopsided smile, “Best birthday ever.”
Cas grins back, “You haven’t even seen the rest of your present yet.”
“Oh yeah?”
Cas leers in response, and Dean slides swiftly off his stool, dragging Cas along as they race upstairs hand in hand, Dean’s robe flying out behind Cas like wings.