Swap of Joy for Sagaluthien!

[asphaltcowgrrl.livejournal.com]

Title: Winchester Brothers Pizza and Wings
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gen, with just the slightest hint of Destiel
Rating: PG-13 for a little language
Word Count: 2,600
Summary: It’s just another day at the pizzeria for brothers Dean and Sam and their wait staff, Castiel and Gabriel.
Author’s Notes: I know you said you liked day in the life fics, so hopefully you’ll enjoy this AU version of a day in the life of Sam, Dean, Cas and my baby Gabriel.  Oh, and this is a little ridiculous, to say the least. :)  Also, thanks to kaige68 for the second set of eyes!

“Welcome to Winchester Brothers Pizza and Wings,” Sam said as the customer stepped towards the counter.  “What can I get for you tonight?”

“I think we’ll have the Hunter’s Special,” the guy said, rubbing his chin as he stared at the menu board.  “Why is there so much meat on that pizza?”

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion.  “Because it’s a hunter’s special.  And hunters hunt things.”  He resisted adding a ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ head shake to the end of that sentence.  “Anything else?”

“Yeah, how about a half bucket of wings.”

“Okay,” Sam said, scribbling the information down on the dining ticket.  “How would you like them?”

“How do they come,” the guy asked, squinting at the menu again.

Barely repressing a sigh, Sam repeated the levels of hotness to the guy standing on the other side of the order counter.  “Angelic is the mildest followed by mortal, purgatory, and hell fire.  Hell fire is, of course, the hottest.”

The guy made a face.  “I don’t like spicy things, so give me angelic.  Oh, and a pitcher of Coke please.”

“Sorry,” Sam said, not really meaning it, “we only have Pepsi products.  Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mt. Dew, Raspberry Lipton Tea, and 7-Up.”

“Oh,” the customer said, a crease forming between his brows.  “Pepsi is fine, I guess.”

Thank god, Sam thought.  “Anything else?  Breadsticks or some dessert?”

“No, no that’s fine for now.  What do I owe you?”

Sam totaled the purchases and took the guy’s credit card, sliding it through the machine and handing it back, receipt tucked neatly around the card.  “Your food will be ready in about fifteen minutes.  Take this number and someone will bring it out to you soon.”

“Thanks,” the guy muttered, wandering off to a booth near the back.

“Dean,” Sam said, leaning through the window between the front of the pizzeria and the kitchen.  “Order in.  One large Hunter’s Special, half bucket of angelic wings.”

“Angelic wings,” Dean scoffed, wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist.  “Who eats their wings that mild?”

“Many people, Dean,” Castiel said from over by the walk-in refrigerator.  “Not everyone has the gastrointestinal fortitude that you do.”

“Don’t you have food to deliver or something, Cas?”  Dean shook his head and pointed at a salad that was sitting on the counter.  “That needs to go, so take it.”

Castiel fixed those childlike blue eyes on Dean and glared for a long moment before putting the salad, silverware, and accoutrements onto a tray and stalked out of the kitchen.

“You know,” Gabriel said, taking a long suck on a watermelon flavored lollipop, “you’d be much more convincing in your dislike if you didn’t always stare at his ass when he left a room.”

“Gabe,” Sam said, trying not to laugh, “the demon sauce for table five’s breadsticks is ready.  Take it to them, would ya?”

Muttering something unpleasant under his breath, Gabriel grabbed the demon sauce and exited the kitchen.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Dean grumbled.

“Sure Dean,” Sam said, letting the laughter escape this time.  “Whatever. I’m going back out front.”

“You do that, Sam,” Dean said, glaring at his brother.  “Still doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”

Taking a large sized prepared crust off the shelf, he unwrapped it and slopped on some of the Winchester Brothers’ famous pizza sauce.  Using the ladle to spread it evenly across the dough, he hummed a little tune.  Dean grabbed two large handfuls of mozzarella cheese and sprinkled it over the red sauce.  He followed the cheese with pepperoni, salami, ground pork and a spicy Italian sausage that Dean mixed himself every morning before opening.  This particular pizza disgusted him to a point, even a man like him could only handle so much meat at one sitting, but the Hunter’s Special was one of their best sellers.  It was right up there with the Celestial Garden Party – an all veggie pizza.  Humans were strange creatures sometimes.

“You ever think about making a dessert pizza,” Gabriel asked, twirling his sucker between two fingers.  “I think an apple cinnamon crumble with a drizzle of icing would be fantabulous.”

Dean frowned at the skinny blond waiter.  “I told you last time you asked – I’m not making any dumb dessert pizzas, Gabriel.”

“But you make brownies and cinnamon sugar breadsticks.  Why not an apple pie pizza?”  He wedged his backside onto the countertop just outside the cooking area.  Hygiene and health codes weren’t his biggest concerns, but Dean on a screaming rampage for ‘violating the sanctity of the kitchen’ with his ass was a lecture Gabriel didn’t care to repeat.

“Because it’s gross, dude,” Dean said, finishing up with the last of the sausage before popping the pizza into the rotating oven.  “Some things are sacred, yanno?”

“You do know that the place down the street –”

“You shut your mouth,” Dean growled, turning on his server with a look that could kill, given enough time.  “And don’t you dare tell me you’re eating pizza from over there!”

“Okay man, okay,” Gabriel said, sliding off the countertop and holding up his hands, palms outward.  “Relax.  Are those table twelve's wings?”

“Yeah,” Dean grunted, nodding towards them.  “Half purgatory, half Hell Fire.  Remind them there’s no refund on the hot ones.”

“You got it, chief,” Gabriel said, winking in Dean’s direction.  He popped his lollipop back into his mouth and put the wings onto a tray and carried them out.

“I almost forgot the damn wings,” he muttered, dropping a half bucket’s worth of wings into the fryer.  Setting the timer, he looked out through the window separating the front of the restaurant from the kitchen.  A small smile crossed his face when he saw Castiel bent over, talking with a couple about their meal.  They were all smiles, so he figured the two ladies were flirting with Cas and not complaining.  He always told that boy to work what the Good Lord gave him, and it usually worked.

Sam’s grinning face appeared in the window, startling Dean out of his reverie.  “What the hell, Sam?  Get your ugly face outta my face.”

Snickering, Sam poked his brother in the shoulder.  “So much for remaining neutral,” he said.  “You’ll never convince me you don’t have a soft spot for that boy, no matter how odd he might be.”

“Maybe I like ‘em odd,” Dean grumbled, turning back to check on the pizza.  And he did.  All of his girlfriends had been a little left of center from day one, but none of them had been so far out in left field as Castiel seemed to be.  “It doesn’t matter,” he told himself.

“What doesn’t matter,” that familiar voice asked.  Castiel entered the kitchen and returned the tray he’d taken out earlier.  “That angry guy with the Hunter’s Special is demanding his food be ready before it’s done cooking, Dean.  Can you make that happen?”

Dean made a face.  “No, but I can serve him raw wings and half cooked pizza.”

“You don’t want to do that, Dean,” Cas said, frowning as if he were trying to figure out why Dean would do such a thing.  “He’d be angry and maybe post a negative review on one of those internet sites that I don’t understand.”

“There’s so much you don’t understand, Cas,” Dean chuckled.  “Those internet sites, in theory, are supposed to help people decide where to eat based on others’ experiences.”

“But not everyone likes the same food, Dean,” Cas said, obviously still confused.

“I know man, I know.  That’s why I said ‘in theory’. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”  He’d found that out the hard way once, having gone to a bar raved about by a regular patron.  The waitresses had been rude and the beer had been warm.  Different strokes, he guessed.

“Do you have the angry man’s food yet, Dean?”  Cas looked out the window at the dining area.  “I’m afraid he might come looking for me if I take too long.”

“Don’t you worry about him,” Dean rumbled.  “I’ll take care of him for ya.”

Grabbing the pizza peel, Dean gave the angry man’s pizza another turn before pulling it out of the oven, sliding it out onto a pizza sheet.  He glanced at the wings, popped them out of the fryer and hung them to drip off a bit of the excess oil while he sliced the pie.  Pizza cut, he upended the fry basket into a metal bowl, poured a measure of the garlic and herb angelic sauce over the wings and gave them a good toss.  Dean transferred the wings from the bowl into the serving dish and handed it to Cas.  “One Hunter’s Special and a half bucket of angelic wings,” Dean said.  “I hope he brought some friends because this is a lot of food for one man.”

Castiel didn’t react, just put all the food onto a tray and lifted it. “For the record, angel wings don’t taste like garlic and herbs, Dean.”

Blinking, Dean watched Castiel leave the kitchen and, for once, he wasn’t staring at the boy’s backside.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that he’s suggesting you taste his wings, Dean,” Gabriel giggled.

“If I make you your goddamned apple pie pizza will you leave me the hell alone?”  Dean had had it with everyone in this place tonight.

“I’ll consider it,” Gabriel grinned, grabbing a piece of pineapple from the bins of toppings and sauntering out of the kitchen.

“Maybe you should consider doing some actual work around here, Gabe,” Sam told him as they passed in the doorway.  “It’ll never happen, but I had to say as much.”
Dean nodded, “You did good, little brother.”

Crossing his arms, Sam leaned against the counter, watching his big brother put together a pizza for himself. It was nearing closing time and they all shared a pie before cleaning up and going home for the night.  “What’s tonight’s little concoction going to be?”

Shrugging, Dean smoothed the crust out and reached for the bin of apples he used for the freaking salads Sam insisted on having on the menu.  “Gabriel the Asshole wants a dessert pizza.  Apple pie, he suggested.”

“I’m honestly shocked you’ve resisted this for so long,” Sam said.  “It’s not like you don’t eat your weight in pie from the diner across the street.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, unwilling to acknowledge the truth of it.

“You want me to sauté those apples for you,” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, surprised.  “Add a little butter to the pan, let it melt, then add a few handfuls of apples.”

“I know how to make apple pie filling,” Sam said, verbally poking at his brother.  “You just get the topping ready.

“Last customer’s out the door,” Gabriel said, pushing his way into the kitchen.  “Do I smell sugar?”

“You always smell sugar,” Sam said, stirring the apples.  “Cas, did you ever make that jerk happy?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, mulling over Sam’s words.  “You mean angry guy?  Yes, Sam, I managed to satisfy his needs.  He even tipped me two dollars.”

“Two dollars for forty dollars’ worth of food?”  Sam gave a disgusted laugh.  “What a jerk.”

“Yeah, you get one or two every night,” Gabriel said, sitting on the counter now that the doors were closed for the night.  “You just gotta learn to ignore them, Cas.”

“Good advice,” Dean agreed, nodding towards Gabriel.  “Go start cleaning the dining room while Sam and I finish up here.”

“Yes sir,” Gabriel joked, giving a mock salute.  Taking Cas by the arm, they left the kitchen and went to start on the nightly cleanup.

“Apples ready,” Dean asked.

“Sure are,” Sam said, bringing the steaming skillet of apple pie filling over to where the crust sat.

Dean took the skillet and poured the filling onto the crust, smoothing it out so that the crust was evenly coated.  Putting the skillet in the sink, he picked up a bowl of crumb topping and sprinkled it over the top of the dessert pie.  It went from the counter into the oven.

“Icing,” Sam asked voice hopeful.

“What would it be without icing,” Dean scoffed.  He didn’t know why, but there was always powdered sugar in the pizzeria. Using that, with a bit of milk, he added liquid to the sugar until it was the proper consistency.

“Everything is clean,” Castiel declared, holding the door open for Gabriel.  “What should we do next, Sam?”

“Eat,” Sam said, pointing to where Dean was drizzling icing over the top of the apple pie pizza.  “Dean has a treat for us.”

“Yes,” Gabriel shouted, kissing Dean on the cheek. “I knew if I hounded you long enough, you wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

“I didn’t do this for you,” Dean growled, pushing Gabriel off of him.

“I don’t care,” he laughed.  “Slice it up!  Give me a piece! I need sugar.”

Dean sliced the pizza and served pieces to each of the men surrounding him.  Gabriel said nothing as he devoured his piece of pie.  Sam nodded approvingly, giving a thumbs up.  Cas was still staring at the slice he’d been handed, looking like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Cas, you okay?”  Dean put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed.  “Something wrong with the pizza?”

“I thought you said fruit didn’t belong on a pizza,” Castiel asked.

“Pineapple belongs on a pizza,” Dean corrected, “but no other fruit.”

“So why is this okay?  Isn’t this fruit?  On a pizza?”

“It’s all fruit,” Sam clarified.  “No pepperoni or green peppers or cheese.  This is different.  Oh, and it’s delicious, have a bite.”

Cas stared at his food for a moment longer before allowing his shoulders to slump.  He lifted the slice and took a bite, chewing slowly.

“So,” Dean asked, impatient.

Nodding, Castiel smiled.  “It’s… good, Dean.  Sweet and spicy?”

“Damn,” Dean muttered.  “Too much cinnamon.”

“But very tasty,” Castiel finished.  “I like it very much, Dean.”

“We have a winner,” Dean shouted, placing a hand to the back of Cas’ head, ruffling his short, dark hair in the process.  “Eat up boys and give Gabriel here a raise.”

Sam shook his head, a grin firmly planted on his face.  “Don’t get too generous there, Dean.”

“Well, give him a day off then,” Dean suggested, looking at Cas.  A bit of apple was stuck to his lower lip and Dean had the sudden urge to lick it away.  Instead, he reached out a thumb and brushed it off, trying not to linger against Cas’ skin.

Blushing, Cas turned away, throwing his empty plate into the trash.  “I think I will go take care of the front now.  Thank you Dean. Sam.”

“I embarrassed him,” Dean said, sounding sad.

“Maybe,” Sam said, patting his brother on the back. “But you also let him know, too.”

“Know,” Dean said when Sam was halfway out of the kitchen.  “Know what?”

“What all of us already know,” Gabriel cackled.  “That you liiiiike him.”

Dean stood in the kitchen as they all walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.  “They’re nuts,” he grumbled to the dirty dishes.  Forcing his thoughts away from Sam, Gabriel, and Castiel, something else crept its way into his mind.

If angel wings didn’t taste like garlic and herbs, what did they taste like?

“Apples and cinnamon,” Castiel said from the doorway, an odd smile on his face.  “And a hint of brown sugar.”

Dean smiled.