okayokay but like: chef!au where dean is the traditional, play-it-safe linecook in his family’s rundown roadhouse. he’s been in the kitchen since he was seven, washing wishes or peeling potatoes or swiping warm pies as they cooled on the counter. despite being enraptured by contemporary cuisine and the innovation inherent within it, truckers aren’t in the mood for de-constructed lemon meringue pie at 2am; they just want their food, and they want it fast.
cas is a weird, dorky little guy who shows up one day with a huge-ass backpack, roughly 300 bucks to his name, and a resume. he applies to be a dish washer.
dean hires him. and hey, it turns out that cas just graduated with a masters in accounting, but two months into his first job just couldn’t stomach it. turns out that, like dean, all cas wants to do is cook.
so they kinda get closer; they take their lunches together and talk about the stuff they’ve made and the places they’ve eaten. they talk about where they shop. they talk about their favourite foods. and then they start going for drinks. and then just hanging out at dean’s place. and then it becomes really dumb for cas to pay for a motel room when they both end up falling asleep to chef’s table anyway so cas moves in.
and then, y’know, as these things sometimes go, they go from sitting on the couch, to snuggling there, to making out.
but cas never meant to stay in lawrence forever. so, with the vow that they will make the long-distance thing work, he sets off for a different state and a different diner.
they do the long distance things for months. then john winchester dies.
with their abusive father out of the way, sam encourages dean to ditch the decrepit roadhouse and pursue his passion, but it takes cas confessing that he’s going to open his own restaurant to seal the deal. he doesn’t know where yet, only that he’s been saving his money, and he’s planning on selling everything he owns (which turns out to be a substantial amount off stuff in a storage unit---turns out that cas came from money before he was cut-off).
they tear down the roadhouse and, themselves, build something beautiful in its place.
and it’s hard; people aren’t used to small portions and artistic plating when the ingredients are those you’d find in a diner (though infinitely more fresh and of better quality)... but they make it work. they have a hard couple of first years, but what comes after makes the hardship worth it.