Dean loved coming home. It meant relaxing and doing his own stuff, after pulling a vacuum through the house and other chores like that. He liked keeping his place clean, but never got a chance with Lisa. She was bordering manic on the cleaning front and didn't trust Dean to do it properly.
"You men are all alike. If the pizza in the box doesn't say 'Hello' in seven different languages, it's still good enough." she used to snipe.
Every time Dean imagined said pizza, he'd turn green, but Lisa was convinced all men were slobs, and nothing he did would change that view.

Now, however, he got to care for his own place, in a way. Cas liked the place clean, but lived in, just like Dean himself. And since out of the two of them, Dean spent the most time in the house, he did a lot of the cleaning. And he cooked. But besides that he could play solitaire on his phone, or read some Vonnegut, whilst lounging on the sofa with a cold beer. Cas often came in while Dean was cooking, but every now and then he'd walk in on Dean watching Dr. Sexy, or playing textmessage Battleship with Charlie. Still, Dean never got anything but a soft smile. And Dean loved it.

Cas had exchanged their phonenumbers, so they had a way to reach eachother. He would text Dean if he was late, but that was all it ever got used for. Until that Monday after Gabe's outing as mr. Gold. Everything at the salvage went pearshaped shortly after the morning coffeebreak. First, Gordon had slammed a door, but failed to keep his left hand safely out of the way. Dean had done a swift triage, and thought that 3 fingers were broken, at least. Bobby drove Gordon to the Emergency, calling out the window for the rest of them to "handle stuff fer a while, ya idjets. I'll be back soon... ish."
That was just the start. Garth, bless his smart brain, but curse his wonky social skills, had inadvertedly angered a cliënt, and Dean had to come rescue him, and the order, leaving the car he was working on unattended for over half an hour. And it was supposed to be done Tuesday, bright and early.

Then Luke, (also known as Lucifer, because damn was he a manipulative ass at times, and selfish too) twisted his ankle on the greasepit and had to be driven to the ER by Dean, because Bobby still wasn't back. He saw the rickety truck zoom past him just inside the city limits. He had called Bobby to tell him everything, and after a hearty "BALLS!" Bobby had assured him he was almost done and Dean should get that no-good Devil some proper medical aid. Which took another hour, because ER was swamped!
So Dean broke his own rule of not using that number ever. (Nuhuh, he wasn't a creepy stalker for his housemate slash landlord, thank you very much.) and texted Cas.

Sent at 5.25 pm to Castiël:
Cas, I'm sorry.
I know we would eat what you called 'proper Dutch lazy food', but things have gone ape around here, and I still have to install that crankshaft properly.
I'm going to be pretty late tonight.
Again sorry.
Dean.

Dean sighed as he pocketed his phone. He could just see Cas preparing something weirdly foreign and elaborate. His mind's eye placed Cas in the kitchen, his shirt sleeves rolled up, tie askew, hair rumpled from running his hand through it... with a definitive shake of his head, Dean focussed on the engine in front of him.

Until his pocket buzzed. Casting a sly glance at Bobby, Dean opened the message.

Received at 5.27 pm Castiël:
Hello, Dean.
I am sorry to hear that.
Are you alright? You are not injured, are you?
As for dinner, just sent me a text when you are leaving work. I can make it anytime.
There is a reason I call it lazy dinner. No rush whatsoever.
See you soon.
Castiël.

Reassured a bit, Dean really started work on the engine and shot a text back, less than an hour later.

Sent at 6.22 pm to Castiël:
Thanks for the concern, Cas, but I'm ok.
Gordon and Luke not so much.
Gordon shattered two fingers and broke a third, by slamming a car door on them.
And Lucifer sprained his ankle BAD by not watching his step.
I'm just washing up, and then I'm heading home.
See you then.
Dean.

He cleaned up, scrubbed his hands vigourously, and got into his Baby. At this time, traffic was light, and Dean was home in ten minutes. He parked Baby in her designated garage and went inside, expecting some soft jazz, or something mushy like that, to be playing softly. Imagine his surprise when his eardrums were almost blown by what he recognised as Pantera's 'Medicine man'. Totally out of sorts, Dean put away his shoes and jacket and braved the music to wander to the kitchen. He stopped dead in the archway.

Cas was indeed in the kitchen, but that was all that compared to Dean's mental picture earlier that night. Cas wore faded, black sweatpants (which still showed off that amazing ass, damn it!), a similarly worn, black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off (the showed tattoos were of something feathered and Dean was intrigued and slightly turned on.) and nothing on his feet. Barefoot, he was pouring some kind of batter in a skillet, then twirled the skillet around to spread the batter around it. All the while, Cas was belting along with Phil Anselmo, his gravelly voice eerily suited for the deep vocals. Impressed, Dean leaned against the archway, waiting for the next part of the song, where he was sure Cas would be quiet, since there was a bit that was vocalised so much higher. Cas still hadn't noticed Dean, and tapped his foot along while singing.

"Have you ever wondered what Hell's like?
He can take you there.
Just one taste and you'll be back.."

Dean held his breath, waiting for Cas to fall silent, but he went on, voice slipping to falsetto effortlessly.

"And by the high you'll sweeeeaaaarrr!" he screeched in tone, only to drop back to his deeper voice for the first part of the chorus. Then back to falsetto for the second and even echoing the high, drawn out scream. Never missed a beat. Damn! Now Dean was definitely impressed and turned on. To prevent this getting embarrassing, Dean coughed. Cas whipped his head around, smiling widely. He waved a remote and the music stopped abruptly.
"Hello, Dean." he said, once the ringing silence became bearable.
Dean opened and closed his mouth but nothing came out, because Cas was wearing an AC/DC Speedshop shirt and it fit him fine. Besides that, a glint had caught Dean's eye as Cas had turned and now he saw what it was. Cas had his right ear pierced! Twice! Two silver rings blinked at him and Dean nearly moaned.

"Dean? Are you sure you are alright?" Cas asked, worry colouring his voice.
Dean snapped out of it, and coughed again.
"Yeah... yeah, 'm fine... so... Pantera? Seriously?"
Cas grinned and turned back to the stove. Flipping whatever was in the skillet, he nodded.
"Yes. It's my secret identity. I'm secretly a metalhead."
Dean licked his lips and fought down his libido.
"Not so secretly... those tats show at the bar. Even if only just a tiny hint."
Cas emptied the skillet on a waiting plate and threw a pad of butter in it to melt.
Swirling the butter around the skillet he hummed 'medicine man' under his breath.

"I know, but in the bar, no-one will mind them. At Nomed, people are a bit less accepting."
He tapped his ear after pouring and swirling another ladle of batter in the skillet.
"Same goes for my earrings. I get to wear them so little, I forget to put them in when I'm working at the bar. I saw them after my shower this morning and I just had to put them in, even before I got anything on."
Dean was glad Cas had his back turned, because he was flushed at the idea of Cas dropping everything to put in those sexy rings. Still battling his libido (because he didn't want to mess up this friendship, not now it seemed they got so much more in common than he thought), Dean sat down.
"I see dinner is coming along... Are those crêpes?"
Cas expertly flipped the next one.

"No. Too thick. These are Dutch pancakes. Bigger and thinner, and after a few plain ones, I get creative."
Dean swallowed. This side of Cas was loose, quick to smile and sexy as Hell. Him getting creative got Dean's mind going places it usually only visited during nighttime.
"Cr..creative... how?"
Cas chuckled low and dumped the new pancake on the stack of others.
"I add bacon or apple slices or this..."
He held up a block of cheese.

"Oma gets lots of this from her relatives back in the Netherlands. It's Goudse kaas. Wait until you taste it... Oh! Could you text Gabriel? One line should do it. Just tell him 'pannenkoeken'."
Dean snorted at the strange word.
"Man, I don't even know how to write that!"
Cas sighed in a put upon way, scribbled something on a notepad and turned back to his skillet.
Dean read it, tried to make sense of it, then shrugged. He would know soon enough.
He sent the text to Gabe, as per request, and watched as Cas used some cross between a spatula and a razor to slice the cheese. Slices fell from the strange implement, not too thin, not too thick and wonderfully even. Cas handled the thing smoothly, as if it was nothing weird.

"What is that thing?" Dean asked, amazed at how it transformed solid cheese into a neat slices.
Cas chuckled and twirled the thing around.
"Een kaasschaaf, in English a cheese slicer. Almost every Dutch household has one. The British mockingly call it a 'Dutch economy knife'. Because of the legendary Dutch frugality, I think. Oma taught us how to use one when we were kids, then gave us both one when we got our own place."
Dean nodded and jumped when his phone buzzed.
It was a reply from Gabe.

Received at 6.43 pm Gabe:
Dude!
Did you really just send me 'pannenkoeken'?
Oh my sweet CHUPA CHUPS! Don't eat yet! I'm on my way!

Dean chuckled, making Cas drop his first bacon pancake on the plate and abandon his stove for a bit. Dean showed Gabe's reply and Cas smirked.
"Good. Could you set the table? Put the syrups on, and the powdered sugar and that bottle with the yellow cap." he directed.
Dean swiftly put placemats, plates and silverware on the table, then forraged around to find everything Cas asked for. He held up a plastic bottle filled with a glutinous, dark brown stuff (which looked a Hell of a lot like molasses), labeled 'schenkstroop'.
"This what you want, Cas?"
Cas glanced over from plating his third apple pancake.
"That's it! Thank you, Dean!"
A happy blush rushed up Dean's cheeks and he ducked his head.

Gabe burst through the scullery door, redfaced and panting.
Seeing the set table and Dean holding up that mystery bottle, he punched the air.
"Yes! Cassie, you're the best little brother! Did you make me apple?"
Cas grinned and confirmed that he did.
Gabe shucked off his jacket and toed off his boots.
"Dean-o, get ready to eat until you burst! Pannenkoeken are the best dinner man invented!"
Now Dean heard the word, it did sound a bit like pancakes, though longer and somehow more enthousiastic. But that could also be because Gabe was practically slobbering at the thought of this food.

"Dean, sit. The last few will be served directly." Cas ordered.
Gabe bounced up and down like a five year old.
"Castiël, you are the angel mom named you after! Kaaspannenkoeken!"
Dean blinked at the last word.
"Wait, what? Are those different from the others?" he inquired, a bit worried.
Gabe clapped his hands.
"They are amazing! Hot pancake with Goudse kaas, oh sorry, Gouda cheese."
Finally knowing what that was, Dean started to drool.
He loved Gouda! But it was so expensive...

He watched as the brothers rolled up their pancakes and cut it in slices. Taking his lead from them, he did the same. After the first bite, he moaned.
"Oh my God. I love your oma! These are amazing!"
Cas blushed, but a pleased smile tugged at his pink lips.
"I will convey your feelings. She asked me to come over for coffee Wednesday."
Gabe stopped eating, one cheek bulging. Quickly he swallowed, adamsapple bobbing furiously.
"For realsies? AWESOME! Ohooo Dean-o! If you think these babies are good, you just wait until you eat her applepie!"

Dean had to empty his mouth, because he had mashed in two slices in one go.
"Is it that much different from anything we buy?"
Both Novaks snorted in laughter.
"You bet your butt it is!" Gabe chuckled.
Dean tilted his head in acceptance and took another pancake, this one apple.
It tasted just as devine, only sweeter.

An hour later, all three men were slouched on the sofa.
"Ohhhhhh maaaannn." Dean groaned. "I ate too much. And that's not something I often say."
He opened his right eye and glanced at Gabe, whose mouth was ringed with brown, sticky smears.
"I gotta say, bud, that was one way I never saw molasses used."
Gabe grinned and winked.
"Cassie, can I crash? I'm too full to get up, let alone drive..." he asked in a whiny voice, pulling his golden eyes in puppy dog mode.
Cas opened one cerulean eye, then let it slide shut again.
"Burgundy room this time, Gabriel. Remember that."
Satisfied, Gabe grinned widely.
"Will do, brother mine. Will do."