The Birthday To End All Birthdays
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: K+
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Pairing: Implied Dean/Castiel
Word count: 500
Summary: Dean doesn't expect much in terms of celebrations when it comes to birthdays. This year, Cas surprises him. Implied Dean/Castiel ONESHOT.
AN: Birthday pie! :D (Almost as good as pepsi-flavoured couscous, eh, master of madness?)
DISCLAIMER. I do not own Supernatural or the beauty that is Destiel.
Since their lives weren't exactly conventional as such, Dean didn't expect much in the way of celebration when it came to birthdays. It sometimes amazed him that even Sam remembered; every year, without fail, his little brother would present him with a beer that had a sad-looking ribbon wrapped around it and a "Happy birthday, dude", and Dean made sure that he did the same when Sam's birthday rolled around.
It worked fine for them, but the whole thing had puzzled Cas immensely.
"Aren't birthdays something humans usually celebrate?" He asked after Sam had gone through the usual routine and left Dean to lounge on the couch with his birthday beer.
"What's there to celebrate?" Dean replied. "Becoming older? Getting closer to death? Yeah. Sounds great."
"It's not all about ageing and dying. I thought birthdays were about the celebration of reaching a new milestone in life."
"Yeah, when you're like eighteen or something," Dean snorted, downing half of his beer in one go. "When you reach our age, Cas, birthdays are nothing to celebrate."
Cas looked momentarily disheartened at Dean's pessimism; after a few seconds of being in deep thought, however, the expression in his blue eyes seemed to brighten, and he hastily excused himself from the room, claiming he had "some important business to attend to". Dean shrugged it off; Cas was always disappearing off and then reappearing more often than not in his personal space at the oddest moments, after all.
He spent the majority of his "special day" with Sam after that, searching through the piles upon piles of books that the library had to offer them. Cas was no where to be seen, not that this was really surprising, given his track record. Dean didn't see the angel again, until he went in search of another beer (It was his birthday, after all, no matter how many lectures Sam gave him about drinking responsibly).
Cas was stood in the middle of the kitchen, his trenchcoat covered in a light dusting of white flour, despite the fact that he was wearing a large kitten apron. On the table in front of him was a crumbling heap of something that may have once have been pie with one lone candle sticking out of the centre, barely alight.
"Happy birthday," Cas said simply, when Dean failed to say anything. "I know that the traditional dessert eaten on birthdays is cake, but Sam told me that the last time he bought you cake you didn't take it well, so I thought that pie would be more appropriate."
"You made me pie?"
Cas' face fell. "You don't like it?"
"No, no - It's just - Well, it's kinda unexpected - Thanks, man." Dean clapped his friend on the shoulder, touched by the knowledge that the angel had gone to the effort to actually bake the pie. It made him feel...pleasant, honestly. Flattered.
He didn't even mind too terribly when he realised, a few moments later, that the pie tasted awful.