Adjusting to human life was much harder than Castiel had first expected. Of course, the daily routine wasn't difficult to get the hang of- he lived as Emmanuel long enough to grasp the basics of personal hygiene such as washing clothes and brushing his teeth- and Dean had agreed to provide driving lessons with only a small amount of persuasion. These things he could handle, having spent so much time observing daily human life. But Cas found that the natural and unavoidable processes of his new totally mortal body were nothing short of extremely frustrating.

"I'm hungry, Dean."

Sighing, Dean Winchester dropped the papers he had been studying and swung around on his chair to face Cas. The fallen angel was standing in his bedroom doorway across the room, wearing only a pair of Dean's hand-me-down pyjama bottoms under his usual trench coat. Upon seeing that he had Dean's attention he cocked his head and poked his growling belly. Dean rubbed his hands over his face wearily.

"I thought you were asleep." He said, flicking his eyes down to his watch and noting that it was almost 10pm. Now it had been mentioned, he realised he was getting pretty peckish too.

Cas frowned. "I wasn't; getting to sleep is still proving difficult. Also, I'm very hungry." He patted his stomach again for emphasis.

"Well, Sam should be back from his supply run pretty soon." Dean told him, turning back to rummage through the paper drifts on his desk. "In the meantime, I got you a present." He produced a small white box from amid the mess and held it out to Cas, who walked over and took it from him suspiciously. He lifted the lid from the box with care and peered inside.

"Fake IDs?" Cas pulled out the small stack of laminated cards and flicked through them with interest.

"Uh-huh. Sorry they took so long to get hold of, man. But, you know; now you don't have to use the same one on every case-"

"Misha?" A card from near the bottom of the pile was held up in front of Dean's face, cutting him off and obscuring his companion's bewildered expression from his sight. It featured the same, bland photograph of Cas that he had put onto every one of his new IDs, but this time with the name 'MISHA COLLINS' printed in bold across it. Dean shrugged.

"I was running out of name ideas. Sammy and I have already taken all the decent ones."

"No, I… I think it suits me." Cas bowed his head in thanks and replaced the lid of the box, slipping it into his pocket. "Thank you, Dean."

A few moments of companionable silence passed, in which Dean found amusement in watching Cas stare at the ground in an attempt to conceal the flush that had begun to lightly stain his cheeks. Feeling like part of a real family was such a new experience to the man, and even the smallest gesture from either of the Winchester brothers that indicated they genuinely cared about him still left him blushing like an idiot. As if the barrage of new emotions he'd experienced over the past weeks hadn't been confusing enough.

When Cas lifted his head again, Dean didn't look away. The hunter smiled as they locked eyes and cocked an eyebrow, a silent indication that he was pleased his gift had been so well accepted.

Cas cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Dean, look, I-"

The faint echoing clang of the front door announcing Sam's return cut him off, causing Dean to break eye contact and return to staring intently at the abandoned files. Barely a couple of seconds later, the younger Winchester's enthusiastic voice drifted through the corridors of their hideout to them.

"Hey guys, I'm back!"

Then Sam himself appeared in the room, a grocery bag in each hand, which he unceremoniously dumped on the table in front of his brother. Dean eyed them expectantly.

"You remembered the pie, right?"

Sam sighed. "Yes, Dean. I remembered the pie." He pointed to the bag to his brother's right before disappearing into the kitchen to retrieve himself a cold beer, shaking his head. "And you're welcome, by the way."

Beaming, Dean lifted the apple pie from its place nestled amongst the other groceries and held it up for Cas to see.

"You'd better be damn excited, Cas, because today you're gonna experience the most incredible taste sensation you can possibly hope to imagine." He jabbed a finger at the picture of the pie on its box. "This pie's for you, my friend."

"No, Dean. I couldn't possibly ask you to share your pie with-" Cas began, but Dean held up a hand to silence him.

"It's fine, Cas. Nobody should have to live without experiencing the taste of any sort of pie. I mean, seriously, it's my pleasure." He said, and then turned to yell through to the kitchen. "Hey, Sam! Bring us through a couple of plates!" There was no reply.

"What's he doing in there?" Dean mumbled. "Sam?!"

"Perhaps he can't find the bottle opener." Cas volunteered, although this gave little reassurance once Dean reminded him that 'the guy opens beers with his hands'. The pair fell into silence, waiting for the sound of bottles clinking, or a refrigerator being shut far too forcefully, that would signify Sam's continued presence in the other room. But the only sound they could detect in the bunker was the low growl of Cas' belly and the stern 'shhh' that he directed at it, as if he thought it would be quiet on command the way a small child is.

Eyes narrowed, Dean plunged his hand between the sofa cushions and drew out a small gun, which he loaded slowly, careful not to make a sound. He pushed himself up to standing, nodding at Cas to do the same, and began to creep towards the doorway to the kitchen. Castiel followed obediently, clutching his stomach in an attempt to restrain the offending noises and drawing out the salt gun from a nearby drawer. Dean and Sam had been very effective at training him with human weapons now that he was unable to draw on his angelic powers, and very quickly became impressed with the efficient way he picked up their fighting methods and took to a hunter's way of thinking. He nodded at Dean to show he was backing him up, and then they both charged into the kitchen with a synchronised cry of intimidation.

"Ah, hello Dean. I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure to see you again."

Dean lowered his weapon, his face now registering deep confusion, and carefully laid down the pie he realised that he was still clutching in one hand. In the corner of the room, leaning against a counter, Sam took a swig of beer and shrugged, shaking his head at his brother to show that he was as clueless as him, but stayed completely silent. Cas merely gaped and kept his gun held up for comfort, although he knew it would be useless if he tried to use it anyway.

Standing in the centre of their kitchen, slurping a chocolate milkshake with casual indifference, was Death.