Ever wake up hungry? Yeah. That.
Dean knew that he slept better to music. Always had. Even as a babe. Or, at least, that's what Mary'd told him. Couple years back.
He knew that silence wasn't his best friend and yet he'd grown used to dealing with it over the years of sharing a motel room with Sam 'The Light Sleeper' Winchester. Grown so used to it that he'd thought he'd broken the habit.
Besides, he generally slept at night these days and there were usually other people on the same schedule in the bunker while he did it and, long story short, he didn't want to disturb them. Or, if he was being honest, he didn't want anyone else knowing about his old music to sleep dependence.
But when he woke up to The Eagles telling him all about their Peaceful Easy Feeling, all Dean could do was thank Cas for being as... well, Cas as he was. The angel was right, after all: He'd just needed some one-on-two time with the radio and his pillow to get a little shut eye.
Dean figured it made sense that the angel would know what he needed better than he did. They did share a 'profound bond' after all.
Cas's words; not his.
But, as he rubbed the last of the sleep from his nap weary eyes, it was Dean's turn to know what it was the only good angel in his life needed. So the hunter pulled himself from his bed, turned off his trusty radio, and started stumbling his 'refreshed' carcass towards the kitchen, where he had earlier lain the plans for a lip smacking, stick to your ribs, honkin' huge lunch. One fit for the guys working their asses off trying to keep him from the bottom of a deep, deep pond.
Dean suppressed a shiver as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, muscling his mind from the dark direction it had turned and back onto the task at hand: Lunch.
His range gleaming, ready, and waiting, and all his ingredients arranged just as he'd left them, Dean started up the fire and got cooking. Mouth threatening to water when his stomach reminded him that it was lunch time for him as well.
Got bad enough that he had to hold himself back from eating the fresh sautéed bell peppers and onions straight off the grill as he scooted them to one side, making room in the center for the pièc de résistance: a hefty serving of thin sliced Philly style steak.
Hands working quick and sure, Dean smiled to himself when his mouth did start watering, not able to resist as the delicate layers of beef began to turn from pink to grey and started giving off a distinctly 'food' aroma.
It was an exercise in self-control not to forget about food safety and snatch the double handful of barely not raw animal product up and burn his mouth on it there and then.
Somehow though, Dean managed to simply dig his spatula under the steaming heap and flip it for a nice even cook.
Taking a big whiff of delicious on a grill, Dean thought about how rare it had been for him to find time to flex his culinary prowess while Sam and he had been on the road. After all, very few of the motels they'd stayed in came with a kitchenette and even then, hunters generally didn't have all that much wiggle room in their schedules for home cooked meals. Unless of course, a good old salt and burn counted.
Naw, having a stable home with a fully stocked kitchen, multiple bedrooms, garages- all the amenities, was really growing on him. 'Was exactly the kind of thing he'd never thought he'd get. Let alone get to keep-
And there, Dean's mind went frigid when he realized that this was one of the things he'd be giving up... when he took up permanent residence in a cold, barren, unforgiving archangel proofed box. Whether of Sam's design or his own.
One way or the other, he'd never cook in this kitchen again. Not once Michael got free. Not once that door finally gave under those unyielding, tireless, banging fists.
It was the crackle and hiss of beef on the cusp of burning that brought Dean back to himself, and not a moment too soon, as the smell of a nice char registered and he flipped the serving before it could suffer unforgivable damage.
He'd eat that one, he told himself as he took a steadying breath and glanced around the kitchen. No harm, no foul, he thought as it confirmed he was the only one in there.
One more centering, Michael ignoring breath and the cook applied his mind anew to the sculpting of the beautiful, juicy, heap of thin sliced beef in front of him. Adding the second serving to the range as the first reached the peak of seared perfection and got put on a plate for safe keeping.
Soon as he had the food together, Dean arranged the three fit to burst buns on a large serving platter and made for the build site. The one, almost burnt culinary specimen getting an introduction to his eager gullet as he walked, disappearing right as he rounded the last corner and caught sight of a Sasquatch and an angel, noses to the grindstone and no indication of stopping anytime soon.
Good thing Dean was there to do something about that.
"Yo, food's up!" Dean smirked when two heads jerked his way. Doubly so when the chunks of metal Sam and Cas had been inspecting got tossed to the ground without a second thought. Forgotten like the scrapyard refuse they likely were.
"You two better be hungry," he said even as he was pretty sure he could see Cas licking his lips in anticipation.
"You didn't have to do this, Dean. We could've ordered out," Sam said as the giant lumbered up and eyed the largest sandwich on the tray. Of course.
"Yeah, well, makes it more fun when you don't have to," Dean said, nodding when his brother reached out and took said sandwich with an appreciative look.
"Is that beef?" Cas asked with a tentative hand moving to scoop up the sole remaining lunch item.
"Dude, it's a Philly cheesesteak, not the Holy Grail," Dean said. Snorting when the angel gave him a first puzzled, then comprehending, then good natured look.
"Bon appétit," he said as he tucked the newly empty tray under one arm. Confused when neither luncher started gobbling right then and there.
"So, after lunch," Sam started, shifting his sandwich from one hand to the other, "we're ready to start welding. You want to pick out an arc and show us the ropes?"
Huh. Not what Dean'd been expecting.
"Yeah, sure, I could show you noobs how it's done. Pop your welding cherries."
"Dude, we don't need that imagery while we're eating. Or ever, actually," Sam said with a cringe. One Dean couldn't help but snicker at.
"Tell the truth, I was startin' to feel like an underappreciated soccer mom. Stuck in the kitchen, makin' sandwiches for the team while the kids had all the fun," Dean said as the 'kids' finally dug into their still steaming meal.
"I assure you, Dean, these sandwiches are greatly appreciated," Cas garbled around a large mouthful of perfectly prepared cheesesteak.
"Yeah, thanks for these. They're great," Sam managed around his mouthful.
"Well, keep those compliments comin' if you want a home cooked dinner, 'cause this chef don't work for free," Dean said with a double thumbed gesture at himself.
"But, why have you already given us lunch if we haven't paid for breakfast yet?" Cas asked, looking at his sandwich as if he'd just realized it was stolen property.
"Don't worry, Cas, he's just messing with us. Right, Dean?" Sam asked as he got ready to inhale another good quarter of his beefsteak on a bun.
"Hey, don't forget to tip your waiter," the chef said in lieu of a proper answer. Which seemed to only confuse the hungry angel further.
"It's alright, Cas. Enjoy your sandwich," Sam encouraged.
"Yeah, a growing angel needs his strength," Dean said, barely holding in a bought of chuckles at the face it got from said 'youngster'.
Cas turned to Sam for answers, but, to Dean's unending amusement, all he got was a shake of a long haired head.
"Don't encourage him; once he gets started-"
"Wind me up; watch me go," Dean said, finishing with a shallow bow.
"Regardless my... misunderstanding, I thank you for the food. I know it can't be easy, preparing delicious meals for unappreciative 'boys'. In your condition," Cas tacked on, mouth curving into an impish smile.
"Woah, easy, Cas, I didn't think I was showing yet," Dean said, one hand moving to cover his lower abdomen as he caught on to the angel's joke.
"Apologies, Soccer Mom, but you have such a glow about you," Cas assured, smile scandalous.
The three of them couldn't hold in their laughter after that, and Dean marveled at how well the vaulted ceiling echoed the peals right back at them. His own voice coming back so clear and unmuddled. Almost reminding him of something. Of someone. Someone who was always echoing around inside his head. Even right then. Insisting he be granted his rightful freedom.
Demanding he be let ou-
"Dean?"
Dean flinched, barely reigning in his fight or flight instincts as a hand came down on his shoulder. Not grabbing the thing and twisting it till it popped because he'd recognize that hand anywhere.
It was too small to be Sam's after all.
It took a moment, but when he peeled his eyes from the middle distance he was greeted by the sight of two very close, very worried hunters. The shorter of which was still touching him.
"Dean?" Asked Sam this time, face... concerned.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said. At a loss as to how to explain any of that away.
"You, uh, you just stopped, for a second there. You okay, man?" Sam asked, sounding as if he couldn't decide whether he was going for serious, or trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah- yeah, I'm fine. Just haven't gotten a lot of sleep, last few days," Dean covered. Which, judging by the concerned glances the others exchanged, hadn't fooled anybody.
"No worries, we'll all sleep better once this room gets built," Sam said, voice a sorry excuse for nonchalant.
Dean took the reassurance as the white flag it was obviously meant to be and moved to set the serving tray still sandwiched under his arm right outside the door. So they couldn't possibly get any slag on it while he learned the rookies a thing or two about the importance of safety gear and always knowing what's around you before the black shield goes down.
Judging by the unsure look on Cas's face, and the way he fumbled his goggles when Sam tossed him a pair, this whole show and tell presentation was gonna be a full blown riot. Then, if fate had it follow the same pattern, the monkey see, monkey do part was gonna degenerate into an honest to God shit show.
And Dean was gonna love every knee-slapping second of it.