Chapter 1

„DEAN!"

„DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU!"

Cas squinted into the dim alley. How long could it possibly take someone to get rid of a few garbage bags?

The loud banging noise coming from the trash bins eventually told Cas exactly where his mate was. The squealing sound of the huge container lid being opened and shut again – accompanied by muttered cursing - made him chuckle.

„Come on, man! Dinner is ready."

He waited for the dark figure to emerge from the shadows. When Dean reached the bright square of light falling from the door Cas held open for him, he stopped.

„Tell me why I am your garbage boy once again?", he said grumpily, examining the soles of his precious vintage Cowboy boots.

„Because that´s what you can do best", Cas answered with his sweetest voice.

Dean shot him a dark look.

„The moment I find my boots ruined by your leftovers I quit", he growled.

Cas laughed at him.

„It´s not my leftovers you should be afraid of", he chuckled.

„The Chinese butcher´s on the other side..."

Dean froze, his left foot still in his hand. He gave his boot an apprehensive look.

„So that´s where the stench is coming from", he sighed. „This container...I wouldn´t put my worst enemies near it."

Cas grabbed his partner´s arm and pulled him inside the back entrance, making Dean stumble as he had still been scrutinizing his beloved footwear.

„Oh yes you would", he said, a grin on his face. „In fact you would put them right inside it and close the lid on them locking it up with a chain."

Dean caught his step and grinned too.

„Know what...I guess you are right", he said, wiping his hands on the sides of his torn jeans.

„What´s for dinner?"

„Nothing whatsoever if you plan on eating without washing your hands properly", Cas scolded him.

Dean rolled his eyes.

„OK, MOOOOOOOOOM" he cried in mock exasperation.

Cas laughed again, pushing his mate to the door on the left side of the small but well organized storage room. `management´ read the sign on the door. Someone – Cas had a fairly good idea who – had taped a piece of paper to the metal door right under the white plastic sign. ´dicks only´ was scribbled on it with red felt pen. Cas watched the door swing closed behind his partner and waited until he heard the sound of splashing water coming from the little bathroom reserved for the staff.

He smiled and went through the swing doors at the far end of the crammed storage room. An open kitchen welcomed him, stainless steel glinting, all surfaces squeaky clean and shimmering in the bright kitchen lights. Cas weaved through the narrow space between the working sills and the huge kitchen block in the center of the cooking area. Two stainless pots sat on the stove, gas flames flickering underneath. When Cas opened the lid, a heavenly scent filled the room. Cas took a spoon from the holder and stirred. The scent grew stronger, a mixture of mediterranean spices, lemon and something sweet yet pleasantly tangy .

„Man that smells like Heaven", he heard Dean´s deep voice behind his back.

Cas smiled.

„It should as I am the one who cooked it", he said with mock sobriety.

„And you know damn well I´m an Angel so...no surprise here."

Dean chuckled, wrapping his arms around his partner, kissing the top of his head.

„Yes you are..." he purred into Cas´dark hair. „Although `damn´ wouldn´t be the choice of words for an angel now would it?"

Cas leaned fondly into his partner´s embrace. Dean bent down and brushed a tender kiss on his cheekbone, right under Cas´closed eye.

„If it doesn´t live to my expectations I can always eat you instead."

Cas righted himself up, turning around and facing his partner´s lopsided grin.

When Dean tried to grab his earlobe between his teeth, Cas turned his head away, scrutinizing him through narrowed eyes.

„Did you smoke out there?"

Dean´s grin vanished. A rueful expression appeared on his handsome face, just for a moment before he put on a way too composed expression of nonchalance.

„What if?". He asked, shrugging slightly.

„Dean". Cas´voice was sombre.

„What!" Dean looked at him, obviously annoyed...and yet Cas could sense something else in his voice...shame?

„It´s been only a month. You know what Dr. Harvelle –„

„Screw Dr. Harvelle", Dean scoffed, turning away from his partner, fidgeting with the spoon in it´s holder.

„I´m perfectly fine, and I felt like having a smoke. ONE smoke, Cas. That´s it. It won´t kill me."

He looked up from the spotless counter, right into the big blue eyes of his mate who observed him, worry and apprehension showing on his face.

Cas openend his mouth as if he was going to say something, but closed it again. He sighed, wondering how often they would have to have this conversation again...sometimes he felt like being in a relationship with a teenager. A strikingly handsome, rebellious kid in the gorgeous body of a young adult.

„Let´s eat", he said instead, turning to his pots again. „Fetch the plates and cutlery, will you?"

He heard Dean open and close doors and drawers, the sound of his heavy boots on the floor making his movements traceable without actually seeing him.

„White wine!", Cas shouted from the storage room where he was filling a small basket with rolls and freshly cut slices of olive bread.

When he entered the kitchen area again, Dean had laid their favorite table in the small niche right at the back corner of the restaurant. Cas smiled when he saw the neatly folded napkins and the already burning candle in the center of the small rectangular table.

So Dean HAD a bad conscience after all. Good. He wasn´t as indifferent as he wanted everyone make believe. Cas knew that perfectly well, but he sometimes feared that Dean himself was the only one falling for his own charade.

„Nice", Cas commented on the table, handing the bread to Dean and fetching a bottle from the huge wine cooler. He squinted at the label, putting it back after a moment, and settled for another bottle.

„This one should be perfect", he murmured, holding it up for Dean to open it.

Dean obliged, fiddling with the heavy opener until the soft and satisfactory sound of a cork flipping out of a bottleneck was clearly audible in the quiet room.

Cas loaded their plates with pasta, chicken and his new surprise creation, added a twig of basile to each plate, carried the huge white plates to their table and said, bowing slightly with his best High Voltage TV Smile:

„Misseur, la table est mise."

Dean inspected the artwork on his plate for a moment before he looked up at Cas.

„All the fuss about chicken and pasta? Come on Cas, I expected something really spectacular."

Cas shrugged his shoulders in a good humoured way, not going for his partner´s teasing. He knew his strength – and Dean´s weaknesses.

„Buon Appetito", he said, smiling at Dean, his face a picture of innocence.

„Ah, Italian, is it?", Dean asked, his interest wide awake all of a sudden.

„Well that´s at least something."

He took his fork, ready to dig in, but froze in midair.

„Wait", he said slowly, the mischievious grin showing on his face again.

Cas looked at him, surprised. Dean was not one to delay meals on purpose.

„As you pointed out to your first and best critic earlier, this meal has been cooked by a supernatural if not heavenly creature." Dean laid his fork down again and lifted his glass full of pale white wine instead.

„So it´s only justified to bow our heads and pray to the God of Food and Abundance, thanking him ...or her... for the inspiration and skills bestowed unto his...or her...humble servant aka Castiel."

Cas chuckled, lifting his glass too and taking a long swig of the cold wine.

„My first and best critic, huh?", he asked, shaking his head.

„You would eat anything I put on a plate in front of you and you know it!"

Dean tucked his fork into the pasta, dipping it into the dark and deliciously smelling sauce.

„No need to spoil a perfectly clean plate each time", he murmured, holding the fork to his nose and sniffing his mate´s new creation with closed eyes.

„If your cooking keeps smelling like this, I´m perfectly OK with eating from the pot...as long as I can finish everything that´s inside!"