Castiel's POV

Step 1: Mix the flour, salt, and butter in a large bowl. Then, slowly add the water.

With a wooden spoon, he stirs the ingredients together, adding the water next as directed. He wipes the discarded flour that coats his hands on his apron, then proceeds to squint his eyes back at the cookbook.

Step 2: On a floured counter-top, begin to roll the dough out into a circle shape about 2 inches (5.1 cm) larger in diameter than the pan. Then, place the rolled dough into the pan. Cut off excess edges.

He gently takes the dough, careful not to tear it, he places it in the tin pan and begins to rip off the pieces of dough curling over the sides. He pulls the apple cinnamon mixture out of the fridge that he had previously made, emptying it into the pan on top of the dough.

Step 3: With the remaining dough, roll it out on a flat surface and then slice into 10 long strips. (4-5 inches each)

He does just that, after cutting the strips he places five strips going horizontally on top of the pan, and five strips going vertically above the other strips.

Step 4: Cook for 45 minutes, or until crust is golden brown. Take it out of the oven and let it cool for 30 minutes before serving.

He slides on red oven mitts, gently gliding the pan into the oven.

"Cas, what are you doing?"

He turns quickly, red oven mitts in the air, facing a very sleepy-looking Dean in front of him. Castiel feels himself blush.

"Caught ya' red-handed, huh?" Dean chuckles and moves towards him, giving him a once over, "What's with the stay-at-home-mom getup?"

Castiel shrugs and looks down, clearing his throat as he awkwardly throws off the oven mitts and slides the dirty apron off his waist. He was hoping Dean wouldn't get up for another half hour, so he could have cabin fill with the sweet smell of apple pie when Dean woke up. Castiel contemplates not telling him, maybe bullshitting a little and just say he was experimenting with ingredients. But Dean stands there with that smolder, a grin crawling across his cheek, dirty blonde hair scampered across his head, shirtless and a loose pair of gym shorts hanging low on his hips, the black inked tattoo standing out blatantly on his chest — and its because of that, that Castiel can't really come up with a good excuse, instead just standing there with his mouth open and eyes hesitantly flicking around the room.

"I made you a pie."

Dammit.

Dean tilts his head and takes a few steps forward towards Castiel. "You did?"

He shrugs, "Well, you slept late." Castiel pushes the oven mitts to the side and turns away from Dean so he won't see his eyes roll. Castiel really didn't have anything better to do with his time—considering Dean slept in until three in the afternoon. Castiel had woken up bright and early; went grocery shopping and unpacked everything by noon, and Dean still hadn't gotten up. Castiel was just too soft to wake him, so instead he sat outside for a while and wrote in his journal, admiring the lake. It wasn't until he had started burning underneath the hot sun that he decided to come inside again and hopefully have something special for Dean when he woke up.

Castiel feels arms slip in front of him and rest on his stomach, followed by hot breath on his neck, "Well, you tired me out last night." Dean whispers in his ear. Castiel chuckles at him, melting back into the warmth of Dean's chest on his spine.

It's still odd to him, and most likely will continue to be odd to him, that him and Dean are here. They can touch one another, they can be with one another, they can hold another without any constant worry. Well, without as much constant worry. Of course there is still Michael on his mind. He hasn't really quite been able to stop replaying the memory in his head.

"Castiel are you ready for the — oh my god! What are those!"

Castiel froze. Everything in his body had tensed; and all he could feel was this cold, this chill crawl underneath his skin. He couldn't take his eyes away from Michael's. No matter how hard he screamed at himself in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to move his muscles, he couldn't look away.

Anna was the first one who spoke up.

"Michael," She started, a deep whisper followed by a sharp inhale, "Take a deep breath."

"Deep breath?" Michael said, the top curves of his lips pointing, grinding his teeth, "Castiel, what have you done?" Michael looked to him.

Castiel, still completely unable to move, hesitantly opened his mouth. He couldn't use any excuse. Michael wasn't an idiot, and Castiel knew that. But it was how he was going to tell him the truth that was going to be the hard part. Castiel knew he had to bluff a little, avoid telling Michael that it had been a guy.

Castiel's mouth hesitantly twitched, "Michael, it was —"

"Castiel didn't mean to get involved with him, Michael." Anna interrupted him, "It won't ever happen again, right Cas?"

Castiel whipped his head to Anna, big-eyed and nodding at him quickly.

"Anna!" Gabriel cut in, yelling to her under his breath. Castiel looked toward his brother, eyebrows furrowed deeply above hollowed eyes. Gabriel looked horrified, like he had just been stabbed in the chest. And for a moment, Castiel couldn't figure out why. But then he realized it; what Anna had said.

She said 'him'.

Castiel swallowed hard.

"Him?" Michael raised his voice greatly, a loud boom echoing in the office, "Did Anna just say him, Castiel? It was a man?"

Don't you dare nod your head, Castiel.

He nodded his head.

Michael's expression went blank. "You've done it again, Castiel. You've sinned! You've disappointed us! Mother, me, God!. How could you do this? How could you be such a disappointment? Hasn't mother punished you enough?"

Castiel can't really seem to remember much after that. He just remembers the office growing smaller, the yelling, the piercing eyes that never left his, the feeling that he meant nothing. And very slowly, he's been feeling that fade away. The feeling of nothing; fading into a feeling of purpose. He feels like Dean's purpose.

"Cas?"

Castiel hitches and turns around to face Dean, now looking down at him with furrowed brows. "Hm?"

Dean grabs him by the shoulders. "You alright there, man?"

No.

"Yes."

Castiel can tell Dean doesn't buy it. Castiel knows he, himself, wouldn't buy it either. But Castiel knows Dean's smart; that he won't ask for details in a place too dull. Well, Castiel knows that Dean is, plain and simply, just not a talker. Which is one thing that Castiel wishes was different. He doesn't know why Dean doesn't like to talk things out, he doesn't know why Dean tries so painfully hard to avoid the inevitable — but he just does. Castiel doesn't know why, and he won't ask.

"Okay, well I'm going to go take a shower," Dean starts, fingers softly trailing from Castiel's tensed shoulders to his fingers, "And then what do you say we have some of that pie when I get out? Maybe take a dip in the lake after," Dean winks. Dean's ability to warm Castiel's coldness still awes him. How someone can make you laugh even when you don't want to smile is something Castiel will never figure out.

Castiel can't help but let his lips curve into a smile, "That sounds nice." He says, entangling his fingers into Dean's. Dean kisses his forehead gently, and then swiftly moves away, disappearing up the wooden stairs and leaving Castiel alone in the kitchen with the smell of apple pie starting to spread. Castiel stands there, still, until he hears the pipes jolt and the sound of water rushing over his head.

He then takes the opportunity to climb up the stairs himself and creep into the bedroom, leaning over the bedside table to snag his journal from the drawer. He looks across the bed and to the bathroom door slightly ajar, where hot steam peaks through the cracks and the sound of Dean singing a very bad version of Led Zeppelin's All My Love. Castiel smiles slowly to the sound — although bad, the sound is still very good to him, it's comforting.

It is comforting to Castiel's edge — where in as, he knows he needs to leave the room. And he does leave the room, pencil and journal in hand. Not because he hates the husky tone of his voice, but because it was overwhelming. All of this is overwhelming, actually. The way Castiel feels about him — it causes him to be the most overwhelmed Castiel has ever felt, because he knows that things as wonderful as this don't last forever.

Castiel comes back down into the kitchen and plops down on one of the stools near the island, flips open to a new page, and begins to write.

September 29th

I'm not as sure of this as I was before. He is still here and well, but something seems to be bothering him.
I'm fairly sure a great deal of it belongs to the incident with his father...
I remain unable to mention the incident. I can tell it's too difficult for him to talk about.
And I don't want to intrude on his feelings, especially if I'm unsure of where this path is taking us.
I like him.
I really do...to the point where I fear I may be in way over my head.
I'm afraid to ask him about his feelings for me.
I want to, very badly, but I shouldn't ask questions that I do not want to know the answer to.
I am finally in a place where I feel safe, protected, trusted.
I do not want to lose that.
I do not want to lose him.
But I'm afraid to ask him to stay.

Castiel stops there and taps his pencil on the paper. He never realized how much he wanted Dean to stay until he wrote it down on paper. But now that it's blatantly staring straight in front of him, he realizes just how bad he wants it. He realizes how much Dean means to him— what he means to him. And he'll be damned if he ever lets that go.

It's been a little over a week, and never before has Castiel felt so close to someone in such a short time, so comfortable, so himself. As complicated as Dean may be, Castiel doesn't want anyone else to have such an important place in his heart.

And Castiel almost cringes when he thinks about how cliché that sounds, but he knows that it's painfully true. It's so painfully true that all Castiel does for the next half hour is stare at the written words on the paper and try to come up with a rational explanation for what he had wrote. But the more that he tries to come up with something, the more he starts to realize that his explanation has been staring back at him for the past week.

And he's just been in denial about it. He's been in denial because he knows this feeling all too much — he knows the dangers. He knows the risks. He knows that once he admits it to himself that there's no going back from it. Castiel knows what this feeling is.

And he doesn't know why the hell he can't say it out loud.

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel sharply inhales and then turns his head to the man standing at the end of the stairs with wet hair still hanging loosely above his eyelashes. Castiel slams his journal closed.

Dean makes a disgruntles face. "Is something burning?"

Castiel gasps. "Shit!" He hops out of the stool, almost tripping over himself to run to the oven, slipping on the oven-mitts and pulling out a dark brown-edge crusted apple pie. Castiel flops it angrily onto the counter and whips the oven mitts off his hands. He leans back against the countertop and drags a hand down his face.

"I screwed up." Castiel says.

Dean chuckles a little and walks next to Castiel, leaning gently next to him and scanning his eyes over the slightly burnt pie. "Sammy used to burn the pie's he made me, too," He laughs as he fans out the steam, "I like them better when they're a little burnt."

Castiel blushes widely. And he doesn't really know what to say, which leaves him awkwardly sitting there like an idiot while Dean watches his cheeks turn bright pink.

"So how about," Dean picks up on Castiel's silence and positions himself in front of Castiel, his hands gently resting on his hips, "While we wait for this bad boy to cool, we go take a dip in the lake, huh?"

The water turns out to be much colder than he expects it to be. So much that he can hear the echo of his own teeth chattering in his head. The sun had just begun to go down under the pine trees, leaving the familiar glow of pink and orange across the water. He pushes through the water, the squishy feeling of sand and pond-weed in between his toes.

Castiel can see Dean's back — glistening with the aftermath of water, like scales across his skin reflecting the colors of the water. The dimples of his back bury deep into his skin, and soon disappear when he dips farther into the lake until only his collar bone his lining the water. Castiel didn't think he could get any more beautiful — but Dean proved him wrong.

Dean faces Castiel when Castiel dips far into the water next to Dean. "There's no like water snakes or stuff in here, right? Leeches, water rats, the Loch ness Monster?"

Castiel smirks, "No. Just a disgusting amount of pond-weed."

Dean smirks back at him and dunks his head back against the water, coming up and letting it run down his eyes and neck. As if that didn't give Castiel a boner. Dean musses up his hair and lets it run wildly across his head.

"You're doing that on purpose." Castiel points out, shaking his head and watching Dean grin like he's proud. "Do you think you're cute?" Castiel jokes sarcastically.

"I think I'm adorable." Dean purses his lips. Castiel rolls his eyes. Dean laughs and takes his hands to mess up Castiel's hair, "Not as adorable as you, though."

"Nice save." Castiel nods, trying to hide the dark pink heat spreading through his cheeks. Dean smiles back at him like he knows the kind of effect he has on Castiel. Well, it's not really hard for a compliment to make Castiel blush; especially when it comes from Dean. But even just looking at Dean can sometimes make Castiel blush —like now, actually, as Dean's hair darkens as the water soaks into it and hangs loosely over his forehead, the way that the water and sun spreads across his eyes bringing out every speck of green and gold, the damp wetness across the sharp jawline and collarbone.

God, Castiel feels a red as a damn tomato.

To save himself from sheer embarrassment, Castiel draws a random question from the back of his mind. A stupid, random question that Castiel actually had no intention to ask him but did anyways.

"What does your tattoo mean?"

Dean looks down to his chest, to the black star encircled in a ring of fire, and then clears his throat. He hesitates to answer for awhile, as if debating whether to tell Castiel, but he parts his lips and looks Castiel dead in the eye. "It was for my brother. I was twenty-six and he was eighteen when we got them." Dean says, letting his eyes trail across the water, "He used to be afraid of monsters when we were younger, so I did some research and found that this, an anti-possession symbol, was supposed to protect you from things that go bump-in-the-night."

Dean laughs to himself and shakes his head before he continues. "I drew it on pieces of paper and stuck them all over Sammy's room and I told him that as long as this was near him, nothin' was ever gonna' hurt him. And uh, well, now I guess we both have it on us forever."

"Sam has one too?"

"Yup. Same as me."

Castiel smiles gently. "That was very nice of you, Dean."

Dean looks down to the water and exhales. "Yeah, yeah. I don't know, I guess it grew on me."

Castiel watches his expression closely; the way his eyes trail off like he's remembering past memories. Castiel never realized how much Sam meant to Dean. Speaking of which...

"Have you called him?"

"Sam?" Dean raises his eyebrows and sucks in a breath, "I haven't touched my phone since we got here. Sam's smart, he knows I wouldn't ditch him without a reason."

Castiel shrugs. "You should call him later, just in case."

Dean nods at him and then moves closer until Castiel feels the hot humidity radiating off his skin from the water. Castiel feels Dean's hands graze across his back. "Thanks, Cas. For this. For everything."

"It's my pleasure, Dean." Castiel assures him. Dean slots closer to him, and Castiel pulls him in, watching Dean's lips inch closer to his. And as soon as Dean's damp lips touch his, Castiel can feel his stomach twist, and soon he's mapping out Dean's skin with his fingers underneath the chill of the water, pulling him closer against his hips. Thank God they were both naked, so Castiel could feel Dean's cock rut against his own.

It was the perfect time to be able to touch him, because Castiel had been aching for it all morning. Dean lips open and he slides his tongue inside Castiel's mouth, hooking his hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer against his body, where Castiel can feel Dean's hardening cock against his stomach. Castiel thrusts his hips forwards against him, and Dean whimpers a little at the feeling of friction.

Dean sucks on Castiel's bottom lip, next kissing the lines of his jaw and under his ear, and then to his neck, where he sucks in skin and swirls his tongue, making Castiel groan under his touch. Castiel entangles fingers into dark, wet hair.

"We should go inside." Castiel points out, pulling Dean's head away from his neck. Dean smiles and nods, finding Castiel's hands under the water and pulling him out of the lake, not even bothering to acknowledge the towels they had previously set out on the deck. They ignore the pie, instead leaving watered footprints against the wooden floor all the way to the couch, flopping on top of the cushion, sending water droplets everywhere across the room.

Dean hovers over him, kissing across his body and chest, nipping at skin so gently. Dean finds Castiel's nipples, grazing careful teeth around the sensitive skin, causing Castiel's back to arch up into Dean. Dean's fingers press hard into his hips as he kisses up to Castiel's collarbone and neck, until Dean finds Castiel's mouth again.

"Fuckin' love this, Cas." Dean sucks on Castiel's ear, "Fuckin' love touching you."

Castiel bites his bottom lip. Listening to Dean talk like this, to hear how deep his voice gets when he's turned on — it's agonizingly sexy. Castiel's hands grip Dean's ass, rutting him up against his cock, desperate to feel his slick pre-cum slide across his skin.

But then, they're abruptly stopped by the obnoxious sound of a phone ringing.

Castiel parts from Dean's lips, "I think that's mine."

Dean groans but moves away, "Ugh, I'll get it."

"It's most likely just Gabe, or Anna. They're probably worried about my whereabouts." Castiel sits up on the couch and covers his erection with his hands. He stares at the fireplace, listening to Dean flip open his phone.

"Hello?" Dean says.

It's silent for a minute, and soon Castiel hears the gentle footsteps behind him. Dean steps in front of him, phone pressed against his ear for a second, and soon he holds his arm out shakily, his mouth parted and eyelids twitching hesitantly.

Dean swallows.

"It's your mother."