Hi everybody!

So I must have changed this chapter a hundred times. But I think it got to where I want it, although it is quite long.

It's super, super fluffy though, so I hope you all enjoy! :)


CHAPTER 8:

The Dinner

It's been five days since Castiel went and got his anti-possession tattoo, and the area on his skin has healed rather nicely. He's always been amazed at the human body's ability to repair itself over and over again. Like an unstoppable machine that refuses to die, soldiers on until its purpose in life has truly been filled.

Although, it doesn't come close to the amount of time it took for his grace to heal… but that's not any of his concern now.

He is a human being, and although he's been trying his hardest to acclimate to his new situation, he's been looking back on the past couple of weeks and he feels like maybe he hasn't been trying hard enough. The way that Dean and Sam often have to explain things to him, the way they do things for him that other humans seem to do be able to do on their own… he's starting to realize that he needs to learn these things for himself. Despite the Winchesters' constant assurances that he is not a burden on their lives, he feels like he owes it to them to at least try and learn their ways.

And practice makes perfect, right? He needs to start doing things for himself, and he'd especially love to be able to do things for his friends as well. Despite not always being there for them in the past, he truly misses being able to just help out. It would mean quite a lot to him if he was able to help with something, anything, again.

So when Sam wanders in to the living room and asks Castiel if he has any preferences for dinner tonight, he gets an idea.

"Actually, yes," he says, standing up off the sofa, still clad in his rumpled pyjamas, and turning to face Sam. "I would like to request that I be permitted to make dinner for all of us tonight."

He smiles brightly as thinks about the way Sam's face had lit up when he had eaten a sandwich Castiel had made him the first day he spent at the bunker, and he remembers how proud he had been to be able to do something for himself. To give Sam that small amount of happiness in his time of dread.

He's quite looking forward to being able to experience that again.


Oh god.

Oh god, please no.

Not again. Please, for the love of god, not again. He had told himself he never wanted to experience that torture ever again.

Dear, god… that sandwich. That terrible, terrible fucking sandwich. That may have been the worst experience in his entire life. Bar none. And he has died before. He was technically in the process of recovering from death when he ate that fucking sandwich. And that still was not the worst thing about that day, the sandwich had been.

It was slimy. It was slippery. It smelt like Death's putrid, rancid breath.

Who puts half an onion and anchovies on a fucking turkey sandwich.

One look at Castiel's hopeful expression though, and he's immediately reminded of why he ever agreed to take even one bite of that thing, let alone eat half of it. He's smiling back at Sam like a child at Christmas, and Sam doesn't get to see that smile very often. And the eyes, Jesus Christ those eyes. Dean hadn't been lying when he announced that there was a new puppy-eye master living in this bunker.

Cas' face starts to falter as he waits patiently for Sam's reply, and somewhere deep within himself he somehow manages to garner enough strength to give Cas a tight-lipped smile and nod in agreement. "Err, sure… Cas," he struggles. "Yeah, absolutely. Of course you can make dinner tonight."

Cas' face immediately picks back up as he grins at Sam, and he looks like he's about to thank him. But then somewhere in the back of Sam's mind he's reminded of how that sandwich tasted coming back up, and he wonders if maybe he could try harder to avoid that this time.

"But, err… you know," he cuts Cas off and looks around the room, pointedly looking anywhere but Cas' face, "we could always just order in. Now that I think about it. You know, order a pizza, relax with some beers… nobody would have to worry about cooking or cleaning up after. You remember how awful it all is and how much you hated doing that… and… you know. You know? Yeah, no, everyone hates cooking," he tries to finish lamely. The he makes the mistake of looking back towards Castiel. "Trust me, it'll be better if we just order in toni-"

He abruptly cuts himself off with silence. He can't finish, not with the way Cas' hopeful expression looks like it's been shattered into a million pieces and set on fire, leaving behind a crumpled face in its place.

How can a grown man possibly look so damn sad? Surely he must be using some sort of witchcraft?

Well, it was worth a shot. Nobody can tell him that he didn't try to avoid this. And when his salted and burnt bones are lying in his grave beneath a mountain of dirt, beneath his headstone that reads "death by food poisoning", at least his mourners will know that he had tried his damned hardest to stop this tragedy from happening. And if they question his abilities and how hard he truly tried, they'll only have to turn their head in Cas' direction, his sad eyes staring down at Sam's resting place with the guilt of his death riding on his shoulders, and they will understand. They will see his stupidly large and shiny eyes and they will agree "Sam was right; this was never something he could have stopped."

"You know what," he finally spits out, his last sense of hope dangling by a thread. "I change my mind again," he continues as he gives Cas his most convincing smile. "I'd love it if you could make dinner tonight, Cas. Thanks."

And just like that, Cas' face is filled again with excitement and pride, his emotions giving Sam whiplash. "Thank you, Sam," he says politely. "I am looking forward to being able to serve you another delectable meal. If you had only seen your face the last time…" he says happily, trailing off. "Well, I look forward to seeing it again," he finishes, and Sam has to wonder if maybe he should have gone into acting instead because Cas thinks he enjoyed that death sentence?

And then all of a sudden he's being hugged. Castiel hasn't hugged him for ages, and only if it was for something really important, and he's just so grateful. Sam hugs him back and smiles, a real smile this time, and says "No problem, man. I'm sure you'll do great."

At least this time he can take solace in the fact that Dean has to participate in this rather than watch from the sidelines with maniacal glee, and he starts to wonder if it'd be too cheesy for them to have matching headstones.


Castiel is sitting in the library, trying his best to sort through different cook books for something that sounds appetizing. Sam offered him his laptop to look for recipes online, but Castiel will always prefer the feeling of a book between his hands and the ability to flip through the pages whenever he wants. The laptop frustrates him to no end, and he tries to avoid it as much as possible.

"Alright, well I'm just gonna' go let Dean know that he doesn't have to worry about cooking tonight," Sam says happily as he heads for the hallway. He's got this huge smile on his face, and if Castiel wasn't so sure that Sam had loved his prior attempt at cooking he would say that Sam was forcing such a large smile.

But he knows better, Sam loved that sandwich. He had said so himself. And he is going to love what Cas makes for dinner tonight too, he just knows it. Dean will, too. And then he can sleep easy tonight knowing that he can conquer humanity and he is just as useful as he was before.

He's scanning through the "desserts" category in the book he's found, when he hears Dean's loud and incredulous voice shouting "WHAT?" from the living area.

Castiel smiles proudly to himself as he finds what he's looking for in the pages. Cleary Dean is just as excited about dinner tonight as Sam is.


Dean's slowly following Castiel through the grocery store aisles, trying to fight with his inner thoughts about whether or not he should just fake a sudden and urgent emergency and drive away, "mistakenly" leave Castiel here without any money until the emergency is over after the store has closed.

If Cas doesn't have any ingredients, then he can't make dinner. Right?

No. He'd probably come up with something else. Either puppy-eye the checkout girl until she inevitably gives in and lets him take all the food for free, or make something else at home using the little ingredients that they do have. And that'd likely end up even worse.

So he's resigned to follow Castiel and just let this train wreck of a dinner happen. He's not even telling Dean and Sam what he's making. He keeps saying "it's a surprise" and then he looks so fucking happy and he hates Sam. He equally hates him and loves him for agreeing to this.

He doesn't have it in him to say no to Cas about this either, though. It means so much to him, and Dean will never understand why, but he guesses it's got something to do with being helpful to them even in his human state. And Dean had told him once that he's not a burden, that they don't mind doing these things for him until he gets the hang of it, but apparently that's wasn't enough to convince him otherwise. He probably should have a real conversation about it with him later, but until then he needs to let Castiel do this one thing on his own.

This one thing that may end his and his brother's life, but he's trying not to think about that… Although just in case, he already told Sam that the matching headstones are a no-go. Far, far too cheesy.

They're in the spice section when Castiel seems to be tallying up everything in his shopping basket, then finally looks up at Dean and nods his head. "I believe I have everything I need," he says curtly, trying to hide how excited he is for this. It's strangely endearing, but Dean tries to push those thoughts away as he smiles back at him with as much charm as he can muster.

"Great! Everything you need for what, exactly?" he asks, desperate to know what it is that is going to send him to an early grave.

Castiel rolls his eyes and heads for the checkout counter. "Nice try, Dean," he says playfully. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Despite his frustration with that answer he smirks to himself and follows after Cas to the checkout. He helps Cas empty the basket onto the conveyor belt, and it all seems normal, but Cas can be quite, err… creative. He'd had never thought to put anchovies on a turkey sandwich, is all he's saying.

The young checkout girl smiles brightly at the two of them as she starts to run their items through the scanner. "Find everything okay?" she asks, her voice far too pleasant to actually be real.

"Yes, thank you," Castiel replies politely, giving her a small smile in return. Dean can't help but marvel at how much better he's gotten at interacting with people outside of the Winchester group. He's not perfect at it, but at least he can answer basic questions now without freaking someone the hell out with his answers. He finds it makes him strangely… proud.

He vaguely hears the sound of the checkout girl clearing her throat from beside him, and he snaps back to reality, his gaze turning from Castiel's concerned face to hers. The total for the groceries is flashing on the screen in front of her and she's waiting expectantly for some sort of payment.

Apparently he'd been staring again. Oops.

"Sorry," he says, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket and picking a credit card at random. It doesn't really matter which fraudulent card he uses, after all.

The girl smiles back at him, and she looks far too understanding for Dean's likeness… then instructs him to swipe the card when the machine indicates. He does, and they're out the door and clambering into the Impala within minutes.

"Are you feeling alright today, Dean," Castiel asks thoughtfully, turning his worried gaze onto Dean the second he has his seatbelt clipped in.

Dean raises an eyebrow at him and turns to meet his gaze. "Yeah," he says confusedly, "why?"

Castiel narrows his eyes slightly as he tries to search for some sort of deceit in Dean's answer. "You zoned out back there for a while, I thought it'd be best that I confirm you were alright."

Oh. Right. That…

"No, I was just, err… thinking. 'Bout stuff." Wow, way to keep him off the scent, Dean.

Castiel looks pensive, but he nods his head and turns his attention back towards the front of the car. "Very well," he says, seeming convinced. "I hope you were thinking about how much you're going to enjoy dinner tonight," he then says with a proud little smirk, thankfully changing the tone of the conversation.

Dean can't help but grin at that as he starts the engine and starts to pull out onto the road. "Someone's being a little cocky, dontcha' think?"

Castiel continues to smirk out the window. "Well, when one spends most of his time in the company of Dean Winchester…"

"Hey, I am not cocky," he says, pointing his finger at Cas, "I'm just honest."

"The fraudulent credit card you just used to pay for the groceries three minutes ago may beg to differ," Castiel says smoothly, turning his head back towards Dean, his smile smug as ever.

"Well how else am I supposed to fund all your lavish purchases, huh?" he says jokingly back, taking his eyes off the road to arch an eyebrow at Castiel. "New wardrobe, tattoo, vegetables… what's next, a tiny dog in a purse? You're worse than a rich housewife."

Castiel snorts at that, a small smile still playing on his lips. "Well, I could always take to the street and use my body to earn some honest money like the woman from that movie we watched the other night… but I'm worried that you might punch all my clients."

"That happened one time," Dean quips back, thinking of Jake the waiter who Dean ruthlessly attacked for no reason besides the fact that he considered kissing Castiel in front of Dean. "But you're damn right I'd do it again," he admits.

Castiel rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "You know I don't need you to defend my honour," he replies, although Dean now knows that's not really the reason why he did what he did, but he's not going to correct Cas. "I am a grown man after all. I'll have you know that I have been a human for over two weeks now. I can handle things on my own."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, I know you can," he answers, smile softening as he says it. "You, err, know we don't think you're helpless though, right?" He might as well bring it up while he's alone with Cas.

Castiel's smile falters slightly at the change of topic. "I feel helpless, sometimes," he says honestly.

"You'll get the hang of things," Dean says, trying to be encouraging. "And you don't have to worry about, you know… holding us down, or not being helpful, or anything," he adds awkwardly, trying to get his words in order. It's important that Cas hears this. "That's never been the only reason we want you around, Cas."

Cas turns his head towards Dean and fixes an intent stare on him, as if trying to figure out what it is that Dean means. "We like you for, you know, you…" he says, his eyes flicking between Castiel and the road, trying his best to gauge Castiel's reaction. "You're important to us. No matter what."

He can feel his skin start to heat up under Castiel's gaze, patiently waiting for him to say something. "You're blushing," Castiel finally says, his voice a mixture of confusion and amusement.

Dean feels his skin burn hotter. "What? No I'm not," he says lamely, keeping his eyes locked on the road in front of him. It's no use though, and he can see Castiel smirk from beside him in his peripheral vision, stare still boring through the side of Dean's skull.

"Yes, you are," Castiel says, amusement trumping the confusion in his voice this time. "You're embarrassed to admit that I am of importance to you."

Dean rolls his eyes exasperatedly. "No, I'm not, I jus-"

"No," Castiel cuts him off. "You misunderstand. That is how I know that you really mean what you said," he says fondly. "You don't blush when you lie." This time Dean turns his head to see Cas' face, and his shy smile is full of joy and something else that Dean can't quite put his finger on.

"'Course I meant it," Dean says gruffly as he turns his eyes back to the road, trying to add some much needed testosterone to this chick-flick moment. He can't keep the manly charade up when Castiel smiles at him like that.

"Well, you are very important to me as well," Cas says quietly, completely ruining Dean's attempts at putting his man-wall back up. "Perhaps too important," he adds, a small laugh escaping his mouth. Dean can feel a warmth blossoming through his chest at the admission.

"Do you recall when I tried to kill you?" he then asks, smile still tugging at his lips.

"Um, yeah, it's kind of hard to forget," Dean replies sarcastically, although there's not fire behind it.

"Naomi, she had taken control of my mind," Cas starts recalling, although Dean's already heard this before. "She actually had me conditioned to kill you. She set up hundreds of re-enactments for me to practice killing you, and every time I finished she would set up another."

"What?" he asks, even more horrified of her than he had been before. "You didn't tell me that part."

Castiel just laughs darkly. "It wasn't exactly something I thought you'd want to hear. She thought she had trained me to kill you," he continues. "Thought that after doing it so many times over and over nothing could go wrong when the time came that I came across the real Dean Winchester."

They're finally pulling in at the bunker, and Dean thinks about that night in the crypt, when Castiel had been so close to finishing him off before snapping out of it and fleeing. He had always known that it had been his begging that had gotten through to Cas and assumed that he could never have gone through with it, but now he knows that Castiel had gone through with it. Hundreds of times? And yet he still was able to stop himself when it came to the real Dean. It makes it seem even more important that Cas had been able to stop himself than it had been before.

"Despite that," Castiel says from beside him, still smirking as he thinks about how he defeated Naomi's hold on him as Dean shuts off the engine, "I couldn't do it when it came time. And that is how important to me you are, Dean," he says, laughter in his tone again. "It's rather ridiculous, actually. And has proven to be quite dangerous."

Dean can't find anything to say in response to that. He stares at Castiel, willing the words to come to him, but nothing seems satisfactory. Castiel turns to meet his gaze, and his eyes are slightly shiny, much like Dean's probably are right now too. He can't help himself as he leans towards Cas and pulls him in for a tight hug, hoping he can get everything he's feeling across without using any actual words.

Castiel seems startled by the sudden embrace, but he quickly returns it and pulls Dean in tighter. "It is dangerous," Dean whispers. "And self-destructive, and maybe even lethal," he adds with a laugh. "But you wouldn't be an honorary Winchester if you weren't willing to give up everything for the people you loved."

He briefly kicks himself for using the L-word and assuming that Castiel considers himself part of their family, but Castiel doesn't object as he laughs into Dean's shoulder. "Truer words have never been spoken," he replies affectionately.

Dean smiles again into the hug, a happiness washing over him that he hasn't felt in a really, really long time, and he wonders whether he'll ever have the guts to admit to himself and to Castiel that he probably loves him in more ways than the one.


Castiel is standing at the counter in the kitchen, preparing his dinner as best he can. He's buzzing off the excitement of it all, plus the added buzz from his earlier interaction with Dean, and he's been grinning to himself like a madman since he came in from the bunker.

Dean had made it clear how important Castiel is to this family, something that he had maybe hinted at before but had never full-out said out loud. Not like today. And he even referred to him as "an honorary Winchester". The words had made his heart swell in his chest, and he felt so undeniably happy to hear those words that he had almost started crying.

An ex-angel of the Lord, close to tears.

His emotions were really getting to him lately, but rather than feeling lonely and a little bit sad like he had felt earlier this morning, now he felt happy. He had thought he would never have Dean as anything more than a friend, but now he knows that Dean in fact considers him family. He had only said it one other time, and that was when Castiel had been mercilessly beating him to death, so he had never been sure that Dean had truly meant that or if it had been a desperate exaggeration to get Castiel to stop.

But he now knows that dean cares about Castiel regardless of what he's done and what he's failed to do, and he and Sam just enjoy him as a person. They don't care about his powers, or lack thereof, they only care about him. It makes him feel like he's definitively found where he belongs, despite this not being where he's from.

Heaven hasn't been home for him for a very long time, and the Winchesters have just swooped in and permanently stolen that title for themselves. And maybe he'll never have Dean in all the ways that he knows he wants, but at least he has this. And this is pretty damn good.

He had politely requested that Dean and Sam remain out of the kitchen until he's finished so that it remains a surprise. So far, he thinks he's doing a rather good job. He's making spaghetti and meatballs, and he's decided to pair it with a salad for Sam's enjoyment.

As for dessert… homemade apple pie. Which may or may not be a veiled attempt at winning over Dean's affections with his favourite food, but he's never going to admit to that.

He's doing his best to follow the instructions right to the letter. He's already got the spaghetti noodles in a pot full of water, and now he's focusing on the meatballs. The recipe calls for ground beef, bread crumbs, eggs, various spices, and some chopped leaf-type item called parsley.

He's already got the beef in a large plastic bowl, ready to be mixed with the other ingredients. "A cup of breadcrumbs," he reads aloud to himself. He grabs the bread crumbs out of the shopping bag and scans the cupboards for a cup. The book does not specify what size, so he assumes it doesn't matter. He grabs one at random and pours the breadcrumbs in until the cup is entirely packed fill, then dumps them in to the bowl with the ground beef.

"One fourth of a cup of chopped parsley…" He grabs the parsley and a suitable chopping knife, then pulls out the cutting board as Dean had shown him once before. He carefully chops the leaves, unsure how chopped they should actually be, then throws them all into the same cup he used to measure the breadcrumbs.

He looks into the cup and realizes that the leaves fill far more than one quarter of it, so he dumps some into the sink until he has the proper amount. Then he dumps the remaining leaves into the meat and bread mixture before turning back to his recipe open on the counter.

"Two eggs?" He's only ever seen eggs cooked on the frying pan at diners. Does this mean raw or cooked? He briefly considers asking Sam or Dean for help, but decides that he's got to prove to himself that he can do this on his own. He'll just have to take his best guess and see if he likes whatever comes out of the oven later.

He heads towards the kitchen and gets two eggs out of the carton, then brings them over to the bowl and re-reads the instructions. He ultimately decides that it's likely talking about the eggs as they are, so he throws both the eggs into the bowl and continues his reading.

"One teaspoon of allspice. What…?" What in god's name is a teaspoon? It can't be a spoon made from tea… right?

It must be a spoon that's been used for tea. It seems rather silly to have to make some tea just to dip the spoon in, but he's not going to argue with the instructions. He raids the cupboards for some tea, and when he finally finds some he turns on the kettle and brews some of it. Once it's ready, he finds a serving spoon in one of the drawers, dips it in the tea he's just made, and then pours allspice in it until it's full. He dumps the spice into the meat mixture.

The last thing on his meatball recipe is a "pinch of salt". He has no idea why humans would feel the need to pinch the salt… but he pulls the container of salt that's up in the cupboards down, opens the lid, pinches it (although he feels rather foolish doing so), then just decides to grab a handful and toss it in with the rest of his ingredients.

Now comes the part where he mixes it all together with his hands. He reaches his hands into the bowl and begins to squeeze at the meat, the feel of it squishing between his fingers being equal parts disgusting and soothing. He can feel the eggs he threw in start to crack open under the pressure of his hands working, and the gooey egg makes the concoction even more slippery than before. His nose scrunches up in displeasure as he carries on, mixing and squeezing, the eggshells digging in to his hands and the meat getting under his finger nails, until all the ingredients look rather mixed.

The next step is to roll the mixture into meat balls, then put them on a tray and into the oven. The recipe says that the mixture makes 30 meatballs, but he's only feeding three people. He grabs the baking sheet from the storage compartment in the stove, then starts rolling the meat into three separate balls. He stares down in horror at the three melon-sized balls of meat that are now sitting on the pan, wondering to himself why humans feel the need to overindulge with their recipes.

Despite how ridiculous it seems, he's well aware that spaghetti and meatballs is a common dish for humans, and he wants to hold up to Sam's and Dean's expectations of the meal. He slides the pan with the three meatballs into the oven and closes the lid. The instructions say to leave them in there for twenty minutes, which should give him plenty of time to make the sauce.

The sauce, for some reason, is mostly made up of various consistencies of tomatoes. He mushes several into a paste and then throws in some more chopped ones, then he adds more teaspoons of different spices and throws the pot onto one of the burners on the stove. He turns the burner up to high, and then looks into the spaghetti pot.

The noodles have been cooking in the water for roughly twenty minutes now. He checks with the recipe once more, and notices a tip on the bottom of the page that says to throw a piece of the spaghetti at the wall to test if it's ready or not. If the spaghetti sticks, then apparently this means it is edible.

He walks back towards the pot and tries to scoop out some noodles with a spoon. He manages to latch on to about ten, then throws them all up at once on the wall beside the dining room table. They splatter across the wall in various positions, but they do indeed stick. He smiles to himself at a job well done, and walks back into the kitchen to turn off the boiling pot.

Now he can deal with the pie. He gets the ingredients together into the bowl, using his trusty cup to measure as necessary, then adds some water. The book specifies that the pie dough should be sticky, but he finds it to be rather hard and difficult to maneuver. He wonders if maybe adding more liquid would solve that problem.

He decides that the book might not always be right, and opts to do what he knows is scientifically accurate. He adds more water until he thinks the dough is easier to manage, then spreads it out into the pie pan. There's a lot more dough now than what's needed for one pie, so he trims it and rolls it out again to prepare the top of it.

Once it's rolled out, he chops up some apples and mixes them together with the ingredients specified in the book, but this time he tastes it as he goes and decides to add more of certain spices until he finds it to be the most enjoyable that it can be. He lays the top dough on top to cover everything, then presses down around the edges to seal it all in. He'll pop it into the oven once they've sat down to eat the first course, that way it's hot when it comes out.

All that's left to do is mix together the salad and wait for the meatballs and sauce to finish. He smiles to himself again as he starts pulling down dishes to plate the meal on.


Dean and Sam are sitting in the library together when Castiel comes to find them and tells them that dinner is ready, smile pulled wide across his face in that way that makes Dean's heart flutter.

"Awesome," Sam says as he stands up, although Dean can see through it no problem. Castiel grins back at him, unable to see what Dean can, and motions for them to follow him to the dining room. They both reluctantly follow, Castiel turning back to look at them with an excited grin at least three times, each one followed by Sam turning to look back at Dean with an expression that all but screams "help me".

When they finally get to the dining room, Castiel has already set up plates for them on the table. They both take a seat with a polite smile, watching as Castiel scurries off to the kitchen to get the food. Dean toys with the word "adorable" as he watches him go, smirking to himself the entire time.

He's roused from his reverie when he hears Sam's "uhhhhh" from beside him. He turns his head to see what he's staring at, then he sees it.

An entire pasta dinner thrown up on the wall like some sort of weird art project.

"What the hell?" he asks under his breath, gaping up at the mess like an idiot. Sam reaches up to try and pick a piece off, but when he manages to get it off the wall it pulls the paint off with it. He stares down at the noodle with his mouth open, his eyebrows up at the top of his head.

The next thing he knows, he and Sam are both trying their hardest not to laugh. They're smothering their mouths with their hands, praying that Castiel doesn't hear them and questions what's so funny. They silently agree that this is something that should be addressed delicately, as Castiel can be very sensitive about human-things.

They've successfully contained their laughter by the time Castiel returns, a large bowl of salad in one hand and another bowl with spaghetti and red sauce in the other. Dean's actually quite impressed to see that they look like the things they're supposed to look like, and he nods his approval as Castiel carefully places the bowls in the middle of the table.

"Wow, Cas," Sam says, eyes immediately eyeing up the salad. "This all looks pretty good!"

Castiel gives him a small, shy smile in return, a slight blush creeping up on his face. "Thank you, Sam. Excuse me while I go and grab the meatballs." With that, he disappears back into the kitchen.

Sam immediately turns towards Dean as soon as Castiel is gone. "This actually looks… edible," he says disbelievingly. "Right?"

Dean takes another look at the pasta and shrugs one shoulder as he smiles. "Looks good to me," he says, nodding his head again. "Can't wait to see the meatballs," he adds as he takes a sip of the bottle of beer in front of him, just in time for Castiel to walk in to the dining room.

"Good thing they're ready then," Castiel says from the dining room entrance. Both of the brothers turn their attentions to his direction, and Dean's eyeballs nearly fall out of his head. He almost spits his beer out at the sight of Cas carefully balancing three meatballs each the size of a baby's head on a baking sheet.

What the fuck.

Sam starts coughing into his fist, an obvious attempt at trying to disguise his laugher when Castiel drops the pan on the table with a small thump. Dean's biting his tongue hard enough to almost draw blood as he desperately tries to bottle up his laughter deep inside himself for a second time since he sat down tonight.

Sam finishes "coughing" and looks up at Castiel's anxious smile. "This, err…" he starts, apparently unable to formulate the words he needs. "Wow. Those are, err…"

"Meatballs," Castiel finishes for him, grinning down at his creation. They're very black around the outside, and Dean fears for what the inside looks like. "The recipe said it made thirty, but we're only three people, so…" he trails off and shrugs his shoulders, still grinning from ear to ear as he takes his own seat across from where Dean and Sam sit.

"Okay, dig in guys!" he says cheerfully, gesturing towards the food on the table. They both look at each other and then smile their best fake-smiles at Castiel before filling their plates. Sam fills his plate about half way with salad, a transparent effort to not have enough room for very much "meatball", and Dean copies him with the spaghetti.

By the time the three of them have filled their plates with the pasta and salad, all that's left to do is take one of the meatballs. Castiel waits politely for the two brothers to go first, so Dean takes the first leap and carefully stabs his fork into one of the monstrosities. The outer shell is definitely hard, but the inside feels soft. He tries to pull it onto his plate with his fork, but it's too large and keeps falling off. He ends up just grabbing the meatball with both hands and plopping it on top of the mountain of spaghetti on his plate.

Sam watches, looking mildly horrified the entire time, then copies Dean and grabs the meatball with his hands. Castiel follows, placing it on his plate and gently poking it with his fork.

"I'm afraid I have never eaten meatballs before," Castiel says, looking confusedly at the lump of charcoaled meat on his plate.

"Yeah. I figured," Dean can't help himself from saying, his disgusted expression turning into a smile the second he realizes he said that out loud. "I'm sure they don't have these bad boys up in heaven, I mean," he covers, eyes darting between Sam's glare and Castiel's bright eyes.

"No, we do not," Castiel says casually. "I'm afraid I'm not sure what the custom is for eating one." He looks up between Sam and Dean as if he's asked a question, and they both clue in that he would like to see them eat theirs first. Good god.

"You know who's the best at eating meatballs?" Dean immediately says, perhaps a little louder than needed.

"Dean is!" Sam answers louder before Dean can get Sam's name out, and he grins triumphantly up at Dean. He can see the "nice try" behind Sam's eyes, and he grins tightly back at Sam before turning back to face Castiel.

"Yep," he pushes out, picking up his fork and knife and staring down at the thing on his plate. "Yes I am," he says, trying to figure out how he's going to go about doing this. Sam and Castiel wait patiently, and he finally decides to just cut a ragged piece off from the top.

Castiel watches him intently, as if cataloging some sort of meatball eating method. Too bad he's likely to never see this type of meatball ever again unless he keeps making the himself, but Dean's not going to say that. He smiles up at Castiel once more before sticking the hunk of blackened meat into his mouth, chewing slowly.

Oh god. Oh my fucking god.

"Mmmmm," he says, trying not to spit it out onto his plate. "Wow, Cas," he says as cheerfully as he can manage. He bites down, and the meatball literally crunches. He can see Sam grimacing from beside him, knowing that he is going to have to take the next bite. Good, thinks Dean.

The crunchy meat puffs his cheek out like a chipmunk's, but he can't convince his throat to swallow this down. It's hands down the saltiest thing Dean has ever eaten, and there's enough spice in here to strip his tongue of all taste buds.

Castiel is smiling back at him, pleased as punch, and then looks towards Sam, waiting to see what he will think. Dean turns towards Sam too, smiling a big, meaty grin at him as he waits for Sam to take a bite. He carefully cuts a piece off his own meatball and slowly pulls it towards his mouth, his nose scrunching up as it gets closer and closer to his lips. The hilarity of it is lost on Dean though, as the flavour and crunching of the meat is still happening inside his own mouth to distract him.

Sam closes his mouth around the meat and instantly looks like he just sucked on a lemon. "Mmmmm," he mimics Dean, trying his best to smile at Castiel, then Dean. "Wow, so great," he says through the chewed up meat, his smile so fake that Dean could laugh out loud at how stupid it looks. Too bad he feels like crying right now instead.

Castiel breathes a sigh of relief and smiles down at his own meatball, slicing away a chunk off the top like Dean and Sam both had. He doesn't hesitate at all as he shoves the meat into his mouth, but two seconds later he's frowning in disgust and his tongue pops out of his mouth, the meat falling off of it and onto the plate.

"Oh god," he groans, reaching for a napkin and wiping his tongue off with it. Dean and Sam stare open mouthed at the display, both of their mouths still packed full of the meat that they can't seem to get down their throat.

Castiel spits a couple more times into his napkin, then stares up at Dean and Sam incredulously, like they're the ones acting like idiots. "Meatballs are terrible," he spits out, reaching for his water and rinsing his mouth out with it the best he can.

That's when Dean and Sam lose it. They both spit out their meatballs onto their own plates and start laughing hysterically, unable to hold back any longer. Castiel is still looking at them like they're crazy, but at least he doesn't look offended.

Once they've stopped laughing, Dean bites the bullet and looks at Cas, giving him his most supportive smile that he can. "Okay, here's the thing, Cas," he says slowly, like he's walking on glass. "Meatballs don't really look like… this," he finishes, prodding at his on his plate with his fork. "They're usually more the size of golf balls."

Thankfully, Castiel doesn't look sad, but he does frown down at the meatball on his own plate. "I see," he says as he narrows his eyes at it. "I did wonder about that."

"And," Sam adds, taking the same careful tone as Dean. "They usually don't have, err… egg shells. In them. People generally break the egg into the bowl without the shell."

Castiel looks back up at Sam, his eyes still narrowed as he considers Sam's suggestion.

"And I'm not really sure what kind of spices you put in here…" Dean says, trying his best to be polite. "But err, maybe that recipe was a-"

"I filled a plastic spoon dipped in tea with allspice, as the book told me to," Castiel cuts in, still looking highly confused.

Sam and Dean's eyes nearly bug out of their head. Did the book really say to dip a spoon in… oh.

"Err… did it maybe say a "teaspoon" of allspice?" Dean asks, biting his lower lip in his mouth to try and keep from smiling at how fucking charming Castiel's attempt at cooking is. Sam is trying to do the same, both of them watching as Castiel thinks back and then nods.

"Yes, actually, that's exactly what it sai-"

"Oh god" Sam blurts out, a huge bark of laughter rattling through his chest as he bends over the table and buries his face in his elbow. "That doesn't mean… it's supposed… oh man," he cries out through is laughter.

Dean can't stop his own single laugh as he covers his face with his hands, trying his very best to hide it from Castiel despite the fact that he's already laughed outright once already. "Cas, I'm sorry," he says breathlessly, prying his fingers off his face to see the damage that's been done.

To his surprise, Castiel is smirking down at Sam, apparently just as amused at Sam laughing himself to tears as Dean is. He bites his bottom lip and looks down at his own lap, trying to hold back his own laughter, but one look back up at Dean and he's forced to release it, and they all laugh together for what seems like twenty minutes.


Alright, so the meatballs were an absolute disaster, and he realizes now he should have just made the 30 that the recipe recommended. Also, the egg thing. Apparently that's a thing. But besides that, the salad was fine and the pasta was more than fine, so he's proud of himself. Dean and Sam did enjoy his dinner, even if part of it was at the meatballs' expense.

He did have to request that they not lie to him about his cooking anymore, though. He appreciates the thought behind it, he really does, but he's more than able to take criticism when it's rightly deserved. He wonders if they would have eaten that whole abomination of a meatball if he hadn't said he hated it himself.

They're just finishing their pasta and their third beer each when Dean interrupts Sam's comment on yesterday's movie pick of "Rocky" by loudly sniffing the air.

His eyes widen a bit and he sniffs one more time, one side of his mouth ticking up to the side as he looks hopefully at Castiel. "Is that what I think it is?"

Castiel can't help his own smirk and he shrugs his shoulders in mock nonchalance as he turns his attention back to Sam, who's apparently already lost his train of thought as he sniffs the air too.

"Oh man, don't tell me you made dessert too," Dean says, his smirk turning in to a grin as he stands up from his chair.

"No!" Castiel says, standing up and reaching for Dean's wrist across the table to keep him from looking. "It's got to be a surprise."

Dean pouts as he sits back down. "Oh come on, man, we both know my nose is too good when it comes to dessert, and I know exactly what that is."

Castiel sits down too, quickly checking the clock to see how much longer until the pie comes out. Still another 3 minutes. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Dean," he says playfully. "Now, what were you saying, Sam?"

Sam is smirking himself now, happy to continue rambling on about the movie at Dean's expense. "Right, well as I was saying…"

They listen to Sam speak for another 3 minutes exactly, and when the second hand on the grandfather clock finally passes the number 12, Castiel bolts up mid-Sam's-sentence and dashes for the kitchen.

"Excuse me, I just have to retrieve something from the kitchen," he says politely, but he doesn't miss Dean's eye-roll from beside Sam.

He carefully pulls the pie out of the oven and sets it on top of the stove, examining it closely from the top. It looks like other pies that he's seen, and he's happy to report that it smells phenomenal, but he didn't follow the recipe for this one like he did for the rest, so he's not sure how it's going to taste.

"I knew it!" he hears Dean exclaim from the kitchen entrance, and Cas tries to turn around as quickly as possible to block Dean's view of the pie.

"Dean!" Sam yells exasperatedly from the dining room, although he doesn't seem to actually be getting up to stop him.

"You didn't think you could hide pie, from me, did ya' Cas?" he says, grinning as he walks like a man on a serious pie-eating mission towards him and the pie on the stove.

"Dean," he says firmly, trying his best to be menacing. "Go back to the dining room, please."

"Oh come, on, Cas" he says for the second time in five minutes. "Just one bite, I promise I'll tell you if it tastes bad," he adds, reaching to try and stick his finger in the pie.

"Dean, no" Castiel says, his reflexes better than Dean's as he catches his wrist and holds it up in the air, then doing the same to the other one when Dean tries to use the opposite hand instead.

Dean's trying to maneuver Castiel away from the pie so he can get at it himself. "Cas, be cool-"

Castiel returns the favour himself, the two of them almost wrestling over the pie. "No, you have to wait for it to cool, Dean-"

"Oh, come on, you know that's just for babies-"

"Well you are rather reminiscent of an infant right now, if I say so myself!" he says with a laugh.

Dean laughs with him, trying again to twist his arms the right way to get free of Castiel's grasp, but Castiel is too quick for him and he reattaches his hands, pulling Dean's arms between their two chests until Dean stops fidgeting.

"Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass?" Dean asks, still smirking down at him. He's much closer now, only a foot away from Cas' face at most, and Castiel can feel his heart's pace quicken.

He tries to remain calm and collected as he narrows his eyes at Dean. "I never touched your ass," he says matter-of-factly, which draws out a loud laugh from Dean's chest, and Castiel can feel it vibrate through him with their arms still tangled together.

Castiel can feel himself grinning like an idiot as he watches Dean laugh, the pie long forgotten, and when Dean's laughter subdues he smiles back at him, something… different behind his eyes.

The sound of Sam clearing his throat from the entrance causes Castiel to immediately release Dean's arms and the two of them take a large step away from each other. He can feel his cheeks filling with blood, but he's intrigued to see Dean's are quite pink as well.

"Just, err… checkin' out the pie," Dean says, awkwardly pointing towards the pie's direction.

"Right…" Sam says unconvincingly, a tiny hint of a smile played out on his lips as he rolls his eyes and heads back to the dining room.

Dean still looks embarrassed as he turns back towards Castiel. "I'll just, err… go wait for the pie out there." Castiel bites his lip to hold back a smile and nods his head, unable to hide the grin that spreads across his face when Dean's left the room he distributes the pie onto plates.


He's carefully trying to balance three plates full of pie as he carries them into the dining room, the smell of it rising in the air and straight into his nose like a slow sort of torture. Sam stands up and takes two of the plates out of his hands when Castiel reaches the table, placing one in front of his brother and the other in front of himself.

"Thank you, Sam," he says politely, sitting down in his own seat and picking up his fork to take his first bite. He digs it into his pie and brings it up to his mouth, but his mind stutters at the truly pornographic sound that comes from Dean's mouth.

"Oh, god, Cas," he moans around a bite of pie in his mouth, and Castiel can literally feel his heart stopping at the roughness in Dean's voice. "This is unbelievable."

Castiel is staring back at him, mouth open slightly with the forkful of pie still raised to his mouth. It takes him a while for his mind to jump back on ship, and he blinks away the sudden spurt of… arousal? Is that what that is?

"I thought we were agreed upon that you wouldn't humor my cooking anymore, Dean," he finally says in reply.

All he gets in reply is a second moan as Dean takes another bite. "No really," he says, mid-chew. "I promise I ain't lying this time. This is really, really good. I might have to get you to make me pies every day."

"He's right, Cas," Sam says, now with his own bite of pie in his mouth as Dean goes back to making sinful noises while he eats. "Like, actually, this time," he says with a small laugh.

Castiel takes his own bite, and this time it's him that moans around his pie. They weren't lying this time, this is definitely the winner of the evening. He accepts that the dinner portion wasn't the best that it could be, but he's absolutely going to let himself feel proud about this one.

He looks back up to agree with them, but he's caught off guard by the way Dean's staring at him. Half a second after he catches Dean's gaze, Dean is trying to act like it didn't happen and focuses back on the pie on his plate.

The three men eat in their dessert in comfortable silence after that. Sam gets up to clear the dishes, but Dean pulls his plate back towards himself before Sam can grab it.

"Actually, I'm gonna' have another piece," he grins at Cas. Sam snorts at that and nods his head, then heads for the kitchen and returns with the entire pie tin.

"Here," he says, clunking it down in front of Dean. "Might as well save you the trip of having to get up three more times." He turns back towards the hallway. "I think I've gotta' head to bed though. Thanks for everything Cas, it turned out well," he says honestly, giving Castiel a warm smile.

Castiel mirrors the smile with one of his own, another small flush of accomplishment pumping through his system. "Thank you, Sam. It was my pleasure."

Sam curtly nods his head. "'Kay, night, guys," he says as he disappears down the hallway and behind his bedroom door.

"So," Dean says, reaching for the entire pie tin and pulling it between him and Castiel on the table. "How's about we finish this bad boy?"

There's still an entire third of the pie left, and Castiel would be satisfied with what he's already consumed, but then Dean is holding up a fork with one eyebrow raised in invitation, and he decides he can probably fit some more in there.

Dean grins as Cas takes the fork from his hand, and the two of them each start eating right out of the tin. It's another couple of minutes before anything else is said.

"You did good tonight, Cas," Dean says, digging in his fork for another bite. "See? You're not as useless as you thought."

Castiel gives him a timid smile as he reaches for his own bite. "I will admit that this pie is probably the second best thing I've ever handmade."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asks with a curious smile. "What's the first?"

"That'd have to be you," he replies honestly. Dean seems surprised to hear that, his eyes flicking up to meet Cas' as he digs in for another bite, but then he's smiling, a sweet sort of happy smile, and Castiel finds he's not as embarrassed to admit it as he thought he'd be as he returns the smile.


Sorry about the length of that one, it kind of got away from me. I'm pretty happy with the outcome, though.

Reviews and comments are always appreciated xx

-ArticulateFiction