When Castiel emerged from the bathroom he looked a dozen times better.
The shadows under his eyes had disappeared, and his face was clean, if not clean-shaven.
I wonder if he knows how to use a razor. Thought Dean.
The man looked out of place in Dean's ill-fitting jeans and AC/DC shirt. It was strikingly different from his usual trench-coat, which has been left behind with the demons.
"I see you figured out how to shower."
"I am not a child, Dean. It's a fairly simple concept."
"I dunno, I heard a few thumps from in there."
Castiel flushed, a very human reaction that amused Dean to no end. "I miscalculated the mobility of the soap bar."
"Dude... you dropped the soap?"
"Yes, and slipped over it."
Dean was finding this way too funny. "Word of advice from a felonist- don't drop the soap."
Cas looked befuddled but nodded solemnly none the less. "I'll do my best to avoid it."
The hunter snickered, shaking his head. "Do you want to try and eat some breakfast?"
"No." Rejected Castiel, immediately.
"Oh come on, you have to eat something. You won't puke again unless you binge."
"I'm not hungry." He insisted, still disgusted from his previous attempt at consumption.
"Yes you are, you don't even know what hungry feels like. Come on, some of this organic shit is actually pretty good." The words came out of Dean's mouth before he could stop them. Sam would be having a field day right now. He thought, and a sharp pang of sadness tugged at his chest.
Cas noticed the hunter looked down, lost in some melancholy thought and decided to humor him. "Very well. But under one condition."
Dean looked up. "Yeah?"
"No peaches."
A/N: Some things happened in real life. Sorry, but this measly 300 words is all I had time for. I am leaving for a funeral this morning and will not be back until Thursday. I'm not sure how much writing I'll be able to get done between now and then, as I am in low spirits regarding the funeral and feeling pessimistic again about the interest in this story. But for you Collective Boyfriend, I will try.
