"Dean, I don't understand. I thought that once you put it into the oven, it begins to heat up to an appropriate temperature suitable for eating."
Dean's eyes flashed open with a start, arms jerking out in surprise. Having been begrudgingly awoken from his peaceful but much too short snooze, Dean snapped his head up to the source of the noise. And just when I thought I could finally get some damn rest, Dean thought. His eyes rested on Castiel, who stood a mere few centimeters from the couch on which Dean lay. Cas was looking down at Dean, head tilted slightly to the side, and confusion written all over his face.
Dean let out a large sigh and sat up from his oh-too-comfortable position. "What the hell are you talking about, Cas?" he asked, rubbing his eyes to cast away the weariness. No use in trying to fall back asleep now.
Cas glanced over at and pointed to the kitchen area of the hotel room. Sam had supposedly gone out for a drink, leaving Castiel and Dean alone in the room. "I put it in the oven, which is what I assumed would cook it, but nothing appears to be happening. Perhaps the oven is broken," Cas stated as matter-of-fact.
Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the couch, inevitably coming to stand a few inches away from Cas. "First off, what could you possibly want to cook? Are angels even into that crap?" he muttered, still grouchy that he had forcefully been woken up.
Cas looked down at the ground, almost embarrassed. "I was going to make a pie."
Dean let out a minuscule scoff and faintly shook his head. "I'm sorry, did you just say make a pie or am I overdue for a hearing appointment?" he remarked. Did Cas really get that soft over the past few months? Baking? Really?
"I knew how much you enjoyed eating pies, and I thought there was no loss in trying a deed as simple as cooking," Cas answered almost sheepishly in his deep voice, glancing back up to meet Dean's green eyes.
"Baking, Cas. If you're making dessert, it's called baking."
Puzzlement wavered on Castiel's face. "When you heat up food for the purpose of eating, is it not called cooking?"
"That's for regular food, Cas. When you're making dessert, it's called baking," Dean said with a dead-set voice, rolling his eyes at Cas's ingenuousness.
"Oh," was all Castiel could muster.
Silence ensued as they looked at each other, no words parting from either one's lips.
Dean clapped his hands. "Alright then, let's go check out the oven." He turned around and made his way to the little area of a kitchen, Castiel following his steps.
"If the oven continues to be of no use, I can go to the store and bring back a pie," Cas suggested. His eyes glanced over at Dean as they stepped up to the oven and then back to where the pie lay cold and motionless.
"Just wait a minute, Cas. Let's see what I can do first," Dean said while running his fingertips over the glass of the oven with a look of mild determination. He opened the oven and stuck his hand in, feeling around the inside and tapping the pie as Cas watched on. Dean felt only cold and rust.
Closing the oven, Dean scanned the buttons with scrunched eyes. He went on to press the buttons that controlled the temperature, time, and preheating. Finding no response, he pressed the 'turn on' button as a last resort. The inside of the oven lit up as it began to hum, indicating its start.
"Uh," Cas began, beginning to feel a little awkward.
Dean slowly turned around to look at Cas, crossing his arms. He didn't say anything at first, merely eyeing Cas with a scrutinizing gaze. And I woke up for this, he complainingly thought.
Castiel let out a faint cough and pulled on his tie. "I . . . well . . . I . . ." he stuttered, unable to formulate a coherent sentence.
Dean raised his eyebrows, his mildly-sassy bitch-face at hand. "You know, if you really want something to work, turning it on could be a great start. Try an oven, for instance. You press the power button, and you know what happens?" He paused, waiting for a response he knew he wouldn't get. "Go on, tell me Cas."
Castiel didn't say a word, finding an interesting spot on the floor to study. He realized Dean would only use more sarcasm and mock him.
Dean smirked. He knew Cas wouldn't play along. "What happens is a mind-blowing event, where the oven turns on, with heat and everything. Now don't get too overwhelmed with all this brand new information. If it gets too complicated, I can stop."
Cas glanced back up at Dean, eyebrows marginally furrowed and his lips in a thin line. "Dean, this isn't funny. I was only trying to do something nice for you."
"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. I appreciate it. Really," said Dean as he rolled his eyes. Whenever he gets snarky, at least Sam pretends to think he's funny. "Now we just have to wait for it to go 'ding.' That means the pie's ready."
Dean made his way back to the couch and sat down with his feet lounging out on the table in front of it. One hand extending along the back of the couch, he took the remote and turned on the television, flipping the channels until he stumbled upon one of his favorite shows. Cas stood motionless by the oven, never having moved, and peered at the pie with careful observation.
Dean glanced over from the TV to Castiel, then went back to the TV, and then back again on Castiel in a double take. "Uh, Cas, you just gonna stand there? It's not gonna be ready for another 45 minutes."
"I will wait," Castiel said evenly. He made no inclination of moving anytime soon.
Dean glanced up at the ceiling with small annoyance before bringing his gaze back down to Cas. He tapped the spot next to him on the couch. "Just get your ass over here and watch some TV. I worry about you sometimes - scratch that, most of the time." He returned his eyes to the television when he suddenly heard a 'whoosh,' followed by a sudden crease in the couch. Dean practically jumped out of his skin by the sudden appearance of Cas next to him.
"Dammit, Cas. I told you not to do that. Walk to the couch like a normal people freakin' do." I will never get used to that, Dean thought irritably to himself.
"My apologies." Cas fixed his attention to the television.
Dean shook his head, already over it. He couldn't afford to miss anything else from the new episode of Doctor Sexy, M.D.
After a period of watching, Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. "I just don't understand why Doctor Piccolo would keep slapping such a brilliant doctor when he's done nothing wrong. It makes no sense."
Dean had his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to the television whilst cupping his face with his hands. "Shut it, Cas. I'm trying to listen."
The two were so enthralled by the show that they almost missed the ding of the oven's timer. The episode was just then playing out its ending credits.
"Can you believe that? I knew he'd pull through and finish it. Doctor Sexy is a freaking legend, I'm telling you." Dean sat back from his previous position and put his arms behind his head. He turned to the side to look at Cas, but found nothing but air in his place. He looked up and found Cas standing outside the oven as he opened it and began to reach in, wearing no mitten or glove.
"Cas, wait dammit, it's-" Dean began, but Castiel effortlessly took the pan out of the oven and onto the counter, not flinching or displaying any discomfort from the obvious heat, "-hot."
"I'm well aware." Cas bent over and blew softly on the pie. He got out a plate, fork and knife from the cupboard and cut out a piece of the dessert. Setting the piece on the plate, he handed the plate and fork to Dean, who took them with a raised brow.
"I think you'll enjoy it. It's apple pie," Cas said.
Dean opened his mouth but not before Cas added in, "Don't worry, it's not too hot. I blew on it. It's all cool now."
Dean closed his mouth, shrugged, and took a bite of the pie. His face instantly turned to delight as he devoured the piece in seconds. He reached with his fork for another slice before looking up to notice Cas' watching him intently.
"You not gonna have any?" Dean asked as he shoved another piece of pie into his mouth.
"You know I don't usually eat earthly food."
"Then tell me again why you even made the pie?"
Castiel looked away. "I . . . made it for you to enjoy." He pressed his lips in a firm line.
Dean didn't notice the almost negligible look of embarrassment and disappointment that crossed Cas's face. Dean's apparent lack of interest and appreciation didn't go unnoticed. Dean finished the last piece of pie and placed the fork and empty plate on the counter before turning to Castiel.
"You know, Cas, I didn't know you had it in you. You didn't know how to turn on the oven, yeah, but the pie was great. Really. You make more and I might even let you stay a little while longer." Dean patted Cas on the shoulder before turning around and making his way to the bedroom.
Castiel watched Dean until he could no longer see him. His expression changed, with his mouth hinting at a quirk on one side; he knew that was probably one of the warmest of compliments he could ever receive from Dean. He thought back to how his face lit up like New Year's after taking one bite of the pie. Dean really did enjoy it.
Cas inwardly smiled. Dean deserved a bit of happiness. Always hunting monsters and demons, saving people from Heaven and Hell, the brothers never had much time to sit back and laugh, to enjoy the simple things in life. But that one grin, that one shard of joy, was enough. And of course this one little moment in time would be long forgotten as they moved on, continued fighting; but for now, it was enough.