((Ah, yes this one. I post a good amount of serious fanfiction, but I figured, for a change, I would post something with no quality or plot whatsoever. Enjoy.))
Cas had only lost his wings a couple days ago. He was still getting used to the ways of humanity, having to eat and sleep and all that. He depended almost completely on the Winchesters, who he had been staying with since this whole thing started. But a case had come up, and he was already worried.
"Dude, it's fine," Dean had comforted him on the way out the door. "We'll only be gone a couple hours."
"I can barely figure out how to sleep, Dean." He retorted. "Much less how to prepare food, I can barely tell the difference between what's edible and what's not in this outrageous realm."
"Look, Cas, you'll manage, alright?!" Dean demanded, clearly in a hurry. "Look, just like, make yourself some eggs or something." he hurried out the door and joined Sam in the impala before Cas could get out another word.
And that, my friends, is where it started.
Castiel vs. Egg: Round one.
Cas wasn't really sure of anything here, but he knew what an egg was, and according to Dean, they could be prepared and eaten. But, he didn't exactly know how.
First, he tried taking one out of the fridge and putting it down on a plate. He tapped it against his finger. It didn't really seem like a thing to be eaten, but Dean knew what was what here, anyway, and he trusted him. So he set it down and poked it with a fork.
The yolk sprayed into his eyes.
Egg one, Castiel zero.
Round two.
Cas did about two seconds of research before he found out that eggs actually had to be cooked, which was not what he was doing. Not… even close.
He didn't know how to work most devices, but he had seen many times before the Winchesters using a microwave for TV dinners and leftovers and such. He figured, if it made that, why wouldn't it make this? He opened the door to the microwave, put the new egg inside, fresh and unbroken, and set it to his best guess of time; five minutes. Seemed rational. He was really getting the hang of this.
As it cooked, he went into the other room and picked up a book that was vaguely interesting but not really (he was only really reading it because human life was so boring) and waited. Suddenly, his eyes were torn from the pages as he heard a great popping noise coming from the kitchen. He peeked inside.
Charred egg lined the microwave.
Egg two, Castiel zero.
Round three.
After a tiny bit more research he found that most people took the shell off the egg before eating it (this would have been nice to know ahead of time) and he quickly continued to, quite obviously, break the shell against the counter.
But, not as obviously to Castiel, the inside of an egg was entirely liquid.
It dribbled across the counter.
Egg three, Castiel zero.
Round four.
Well, he knew he was supposed to take off the shell, but as the inside was liquid he figured he would have to be a bit more careful. So, this time, ever so gingerly, he cracked the egg open and let its insides pour into a bowl. This time he was 100% sure he had done it right.
He put the bowl in the microwave and went off to the living room, as he had done before, before he heard another bang and came back into the kitchen.
Now the inside of the microwave was coated with two eggs
Egg four, Castiel zero.
Round five.
Well, the microwave wasn't working, but there was more than one way to cook. He knew that, at least. He looked up ways of cooking things and came up with lots of results. He didn't seem to have the equipment for stir-frying and they certainly didn't have a hibachi grill he was aware of, but the process of boiling something seemed like it would work well enough. It was just using water to make something.
So, this time, he filled a pot of water and cracked the egg into it.
The egg disintegrated into the water.
There was no egg. Only egg-flavored water.
Egg five, Castiel zero.
Round six.
He knew he had it this time.
He had recalled seeing Dean make things on the stovetop, a large circle that heated up and cooked things. He wasn't sure exactly how it cooked things, really. Maybe a motion sensor, or something. Either way, he wasn't worried about that now. He cracked the egg into a pan and set that pan on the stove.
And then he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing changed, nor would it ever. He never turned on the burner.
Egg six, Castiel zero.
Round seven.
Okay, this was getting frustrating. He didn't know why these stupid things absolutely refused to be cooked, but he had had enough of it. He thought of what he knew. Cooking needed heat. What gave off heat?
Oh, he did.
Castiel stepped outside with the plate and the egg. He set the plate down in the ground, about ten feet from the house. Carefully, gingerly, he cracked the egg onto the plate and stepped back.
Then, from his coat he withdrew a silver (luckily on the weaker side) grenade. He activated it and threw it a little farther off than the egg, and then hurried inside and slammed the door behind him. He pressed his back against the door until he heard and felt a large BANG! For a moment, he waited.
Finally, he stood and grabbed a plate and fork from the kitchen and the stepped outside. The dirt was still floating in the air, blurring his vision, but he turned to see the wall of the house, where it should have gone.
The plate was completely maimed and no more than fractured glass, but as he looked up to the wall he found little bits of yellow adhering to the side of the building, covered in little specks of black and grey. Castiel smiled in his satisfaction and scraped the eggs off the wall and onto his plate, shrapnel and all.
Ah, yes, perfectly cooked, aside from the bits of concrete.
Egg six, Castiel one.
Dean came home to a perfectly normal sight. He stepped into the house, a little covered in blood, as always, and saw his friend sitting at the table. He looked to see he had a full plate of eggs before him, well cooked and seasoned with pepper.
"Hey Cas," He greeted.
"Hello, Dean." Cas responded casually. Dean smiled as he headed off to his room. Well, at least he got something, he thought. He had kind of thought maybe he'd come home to a total wreck and see Cas setting off bombs or something, but everything seemed pretty normal.
It seemed like he knew what he was doing, Cas.
Dean was glad he was adjusting so nicely.