"I burnt the nachos."
"You what?"
"The nachos. I burned them."
Castiel had volunteered to be in charge of making snacks that Sunday. He far preferred menial cooking duties to spending another night watching football, and he wanted to make sure Dean was happy.
Dean had been subdued since their talk during last week's viewing session. The house had been absent of his loud laughter in the past few days, an air of mild anxiety replacing the usual atmosphere of calm contentment. Cas had resolved that tonight would make him happy again. Food always made Dean happy.
But as he stood there in the living room with the charred remains of nachos in his hand and Dean looking up at him expectantly from the couch, Cas felt nothing but shame. He had failed.
"How did you burn the nachos?" Dean's asked, slightly amused. This somehow made the wretched ordeal even worse. Silly Cas, still not able to perform the easiest of human tasks. He was little more than a helpless child.
"I don't know! I put the cheese on the chips, just like you told me too, then I put them in the oven—"
"You put them in the oven?" Dean asked, his smirk growing wider. Castiel looked down at the blackened nacho carcass and shifted his weight. He could feel a blush rising in his cheeks.
"Yes, at around 400 degrees." He said, quietly. Dean was now shaking with restrained laughter. "I'm sorry. I've done it all wrong." Cas said, frustrated at his lack of worth, ashamed at his ineptitude. Dean must have realized the former angel's pain, for he stood up from the couch and quickly walked over to Castiel.
"It's just nachos, Cas." He said, gently taking the plate of burnt nachos from Cas's hand.
"No, it's not." Castiel turned away, frustrated. "It's everything. I don't know how to use a washing machine or drive a car. I don't know how to live on my own. You go to work every day and I just sit here for hours, waiting for you to come home. I can't do anything, Dean." He laughed bitterly. "When I was an angel, I had power. Now, I'm human, and I'm useless."
Dean looked at him, clearly at a loss of what to say. After a few seconds, he put his hand to Cas's cheek and gently turned it so they were face to face. Dean stood like that for a small eternity, watching Castiel anxiously.
"Cas," He whispered, finally, "Let's make nachos."
"But the game—"
"Forget the game." Castiel exhaled heavily in exasperation. This made everything so much worse. Dean was going to give up his favorite ritual for no real reason. For him.
"No, Dean. You love football. I'm not going to make you stop watching." Cas's tone was almost angry. He was not worth this. But Dean just shrugged and gestured to the television.
"It's halftime. You're not interrupting anything. Now move." He practically shoved Cas into the kitchen, dumping the failed nachos in the trash as they entered. "Get me a plate." The former angel obeyed silently, stifling his self-loathing to pull a dish out of the cupboard.
"Alright," Dean said as soon as the chips and cheese were assembled properly. "This is going to go in the microwave for a minute and a half." He turned to Castiel. "Your biggest mistake wasn't burning the nachos. Your biggest mistake was not putting any toppings on." He opened the door to the fridge and began pulling out items at random.
"Salsa, olives, guac…am I missing anything?" Cas realized with a jolt that Dean was talking to him, asking him what he should do next.
"Sour cream?" Castiel asked hesitantly, so afraid of being wrong. Dean broke out into a wide grin, the one that always made Cas feel as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. He couldn't help but give a weak smile in return.
"Great idea." Dean pulled the sour cream out of the refrigerator. The former angel sagged with relief. The microwave chimed to indicate that the cheese had melted over the chips. Dean pulled the plate out and began pouring liberal amount of salsa on the nachos. "Could you slice up some olives for us to put on top?" He asked. Cas swallowed nervously.
"Of course." He said. Slowly, laboriously, and fearful of accidentally severing digits, Castiel chopped the olives. Dean stopped pouring guacamole and looked over to Cas. He smiled softly. "That's probably enough." He said, scooping the olives in his hand and sprinkling them on top of the mountain of nachos.
They walked over to the couch and sat down, Dean keeping the nachos on his lap. He put his arm around Cas's shoulder as they began to watch the game again.
"You're not useless, Cas." Dean said suddenly, tilting his head to face the former angel. Castiel looked down, unwilling to hear what he believed to be untrue. "Hey. Look at me." Dean lifted Cas's chin gently. "You need to know that you're not worthless. Not to me."
"Are you sure?" Cas briefly let his insecurity get the better of him.
"I need you, Castiel. I do." Dean said, frankly, calmly. "I need you here with me. Okay? So no more of this 'useless' crap. You belong here, with me. Do you understand?" Cas nodded slowly.
Dean kissed him, gently at first and then more urgently, as if to prove a point. Castiel gave in to the embrace, relinquishing his anxieties, allowing himself to be loved.
"Don't forget it, assbutt." Dean smiled and turned to face the television once more, munching on perfect nachos with enthusiasm.
Castiel laughed softly, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. I'm needed, he reassured himself. He needs me. He picked up a nacho and analyzed it for a fraction of a second before popping it in his mouth contentedly.