A/N: Look, a new chapter! We finally get some Dean/Cas interaction, and it's really adorable and actually way cuter than I'd even planned on, so enjoy!
"You should make pancakes," Sam called as he entered the kitchen the next morning. He'd caught Dean with milk and Frosted Flakes in hand, and had offered the suggestion just before his brother could pour his cereal.
"Alright," Dean agreed after a moment of consideration, returning his cereal supplies to their proper locations. "But I swear to god Sam, if you criticize my griddle creations one more time-"
"All I said was you could make an effort to use whole-grain batter and more natural syrups, Dean. Not exactly desecrating your precious breakfast foods," Sam told him, holding up his hands in a gesture of mock defense.
"Cooking is not a game," Dean insisted, wagging a spatula in Sam's direction. "It is an artform," he stressed, tugging tight on the knot of his apron for emphasis.
"Whatever you say, Julia Child," Sam shrugged, leaning back against the counter as Dean scrounged the refrigerator muttering about blueberries and chocolate chips. "Just as long I can eat your Sistine Chapel."
"Why am I even doing this?" Dean wondered a moment later, whisk in one hand and a bunch of bananas in the other. "You fill your health-nut gut with berries harvested from an alpine spring and yogurt made from the gentlest and fluffiest goats; why are you telling me to make pancakes if you're not even going to eat them?"
Sam hesitated for a moment, waiting for Dean to turn and face him so he could watch his older brother's reaction. "Because Cas wants them," Sam said, smiling to himself as Dean shifted on his feet and failed to keep his obviously piqued interest from showing on his face.
"Really? He said that to you?" Dean asked, his voice forcefully nonchalant but still laced with a notable hint of schoolboy crush as he peeled and sliced the fruit .
"Yeah, he brought it up yesterday. He talks about your cooking a lot, actually," Sam continued. Now that he thought about it, Cas did seem to have a sort of obsession with Dean's culinary creations. Maybe it had something to do with how Cas's stint as a penniless human had taught him to appreciate a good home-cooked meal. Although Sam got the feeling Cas was more interested in the chef than the cuisine.
"Hm," was all Dean said as he turned back to the stove and began ladling the batter onto a pan.
"You should cook for him more often. I think he'd really appreciate it," Sam added, and Dean gave a little nod of recognition. No "well maybe the little winged princess should cook me a meal every once in a while," no quippy commentary, no joking retort. Just a nod.
Apparently Sam had underestimated just how much it meant to Dean that Cas valued his cooking; the older Winchester joked about everything, no matter how humor-free the situation was, unless he personally found it serious. So if Dean wasn't making fun of Cas for wanting more of his food, then he valued the angel's opinion far more than Sam had imagined.
"What's cookin' good lookin'?" Charlie mumbled as she entered the kitchen, her voice still slightly slurred from sleep. She made a beeline towards the kettle, giving Sam an appreciative sleepy smile as she realized he'd already turned it on for her.
"Banana pancakes," Dean told her, and she nodded absentmindedly with a zombie-esque grunt as she dunked a teabag into her mug of steaming water.
"Hey, Kev,grab me a couple plates," Dean called in place of greeting as Kevin slumped into the area.
Kevin gave a grunt that was probably of the same undead dialect as Charlie's, and he handed Dean a stack of plates with his eyes still closed.
"You two are ridiculous," Dean sighed as he piled the first few golden brown flapjacks onto a plate and offered them to Sam. "You get more sleep in one night than I do in a week when we're on the road, but a newborn panda could open its eyes faster."
"Go rake some leaves with a tablecloth and leave me alone," Kevin grumbled as he pulled open the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. Kevin was always grumpy in the mornings, but luckily his "grumpiness" only consisted of senseless half-hearted insults.
Dean rolled his eyes and offered a plate to Charlie, whose lifesource of tea was slowly beginning to replenish her energy. She and Sam made their way over to the table, Kevin following once he'd taken his breakfast and muttered something about Dean paying his taxes in cabbage.
"Anybody seen Cas?" Dean called out as he lingered by the stove. He'd already fixed his own plate, complete with a spoonful of whipped cream plopped on top, but he didn't want to take his seat before fixing the angel's food.
"He should be up soon," Sam offered as he sparingly poured a bit of all-natural syrup onto his plate. Charlie nodded in agreement as she slathered her own pancakes with butter, then drowned them in the sugariest brand-name syrup money could buy.
"Wingman's here," Kevin announced a few moments later, his eyes now half-open as he alternated between scarfing down his breakfast and chugging huge gulps of orange juice.
"Hey Cas, I already made you a...oh," Dean trailed off, his words fading into silence as he stepped into the main room and caught sight of Cas.
The angel was still wearing Kevin's onesie from the night before, his hair sleep-tousled as he rubbed at his eyes and groggily entered the room. Cas normally made a quick stop to the local farmers market before breakfast, but apparently this morning he'd decided to sleep in. And, judging by Dean's baffled and speechless response, he'd made the right choice.
"I, uhm, really dig your new getup," Dean told him, clearing his throat once he'd finally regained the gift of speech. Cas gave a slight shrug as he took the plate Dean held out to him.
"The fabric is quite soft," Cas said somewhat sheepishly, and it took Dean a moment to realize the angel must have thought he'd been mocking him. Which couldn't have been farther from the truth. He would never admit it aloud, but Dean couldn't think of a time when he'd ever seen anyone look as hilariously adorable and endearing as a sleep-tousled Cas in footie pajamas.
"No man, I really do like it," Dean insisted, trying not to sound too emphatic. But the Cas-batman combo would've been enough to send Dean swooning if he hadn't been concentrated on keeping his cool in front of his audience of Sam & Co.
"You do?" Cas asked, and it took all of Sam's willpower not to snort into his juice as he watched how dumbstruck his brother was over the sight of Cas in a friggin batman onesie.
"Yeah, you uh… you look good," Dean finished awkwardly, stumbling hopelessly over his own words. He wasn't quite sure why he'd decided to say that last bit aloud, but he didn't take it back.
"Thanks," Cas told him with a smile, and Dean's heart gave a little flutter that he didn't even bother to try and stamp out. Dean had known for a while now that he was too far-gone to deny his feelings to himself anymore; he could keep them secret from Cas and everyone else, but he'd go insane if he wasn't at least honest with himself.
Dean followed Cas to the table and took a seat beside Kevin, ignoring the younger boy's incoherent grumbles as he tucked in to his breakfast. The five ate in silence, save the occasional discreet hiccup or burp from Kevin.
"This is delicious; the perfect balance of airy lightness and dense fluffiness within each pancake is incredible," Cas commented after a few minutes, looking up from where he sat across from Dean.
Cas felt a bit nervous about being the only one to speak up about what really were fantastically crafted pancakes. But he'd managed to muster up the courage to speak after a supportive nod from Kevin and an overt wink from Charlie. And the look of surprised elation Dean was now giving him, his smile wide and delighted around a mouthful of pancakes, made it more than worth it.
Cas decided to hang back after the others had vacated the area with more gestures of good luck. He offered to help Dean clean up, carrying plates into the kitchen and assisting him in filling the 1950s era dishwasher.
"That really was a delightful meal," Cas told him again as he handed Dean the spatula, and it was all Dean could do to keep from grinning like an idiot.
Dean had made a damn good batch of pancakes if he did say so himself. He'd put even more effort into his cooking than usual this go around, because apparently Cas raved about his culinary skills even when he wasn't there to hear it. Cas liked his cooking enough to tell Sam about it on more than one occasion, and now he was complimenting Dean when no one else had. Dean knew it was stupid, but even the smallest amount of praise from Cas, especially when he'd worked so hard to please him, was enough to send his heart soaring.
"There is something I want to show you," Cas announced without warning a few minutes later, rolling back down the sleeves of his onesie once they'd finished loading the dishwasher.
"Ok, go for it," Dean replied with a hint of nervousness, not sure where this was going. But he trusted Cas. He trusted Cas with everything: his life, his soul, his happiness.
Dean gave a shake of his head as he realized just how hopelessly sappy his thoughts became whenever Cas was concerned. He was only a few pining thoughts away from writing lovesick poetry and crooning about his achy breaky heart.
"It's in my room," Cas told him, and Dean tried to fight back the blush that flushed warm across his face.
Dean felt like a teenage boy following his crush back to their dormitory as Cas led him down the hallway and deeper into the bunker. He held back a laugh a heartbeat later as he realized that scenario was more or less the truth.
Dean lingered by the doorway once he and Cas reached their destination. Despite having lived in a wonderfully domestic setting with Cas and the others for the past few months, he'd still yet to venture into this particular room.
Dean had always had a thing about personal space. Blame it on growing up in the back seat of the Impala and sharing a musty motel bed with his brother for most of his childhood. But his slightly unusual quirk had never impacted his view of other people's rooms; Dean perused Sam's personal bookshelf when he was bored, watched HBOGo on Charlie's laptop when he wanted to catch up on Game of Thrones, snuggled into Kevin's mess of pillowpets when he needed a good nap.
It's just that Cas was Cas, and Dean was Dean, and none of it made any sense but he still felt weird stepping into the bedroom of someone so...Cas.
"You can come in," Cas called, beckoning Dean through the doorway. Dean stepped forward as casually as he could manage, trying to glance about the room without making it clear that he was memorizing every if Cas did notice, Dean could merely argue he was just doing it for the sake of the job; who knew when he might need to recall the exact military-style fold of Cas's sheets, or the way he'd carefully hung up his trench coat in the closet along with his shoes?
"It's over here," Cas directed, stepping over to the desk, and Dean forced his gaze away from the sketch pad and paper he'd noticed on the bedside table. Since when did Cas draw?
But his thoughts of prying about Cas's hobbies were immediately forgotten when he noticed the small furry animal Cas was currently holding out to him.
"His name is Benvolio," Cas announced, sounding prouder than Dean had ever heard him.
"Like...Romeo and Juliet?" Dean asked, somehow more interested in the name than the fact that Cas had literally just produced a fucking guinea pig out of fucking nowhere.
"The one and only," Cas beamed. "It means 'well-wisher' or 'peacemaker'. It suits his personality very well, he has quite a kind soul," Cas explained, smiling down at the little fluffball he held cupped in his hands.
"Do you want to pet him?" he asked without warning, looking up at Dean with big round hopeful eyes.
"Uh, sure," Dean said without thinking, but his nerves were suddenly on high alert when Cas reached down and took hold of his wrist. Dean tried to remain calm as Cas folded down his fingers, leaving his pointer and middle finger standing, and took hold of the back of his hand.
"Just pet him like this," Cas instructed, his voice low with concentration as he led Dean's fingers back and forth along Benvolio's puffy black fur. The small fluffball began emitting a soft thrumming pur, and Cas smiled up at Dean.
"He says he likes you," Cas told him, and Dean didn't even question how or why Cas could communicate with guinea pigs. "He also ask if you're the one who I...oh," Cas trailed off, his cheeks reddening.
"What?" Dean asked, unable to keep from smiling at the sight of an embarrassed Cas.
"It's nothing," Cas insisted, shaking his head with a bashful smile, and Dean had never in his life wished so hard for the ability to communicate with small household pets.
He'd also never so strongly wanted to reach forward and cup Cas's face in his hand, maybe press a gentle kiss against his cheek and feel the slight scratch of Cas's morning scruff against his jaw.
Christ. If Dean swooned any harder, he's end up as the heroine of a poorly written teen romance novel.
"How long have you had him?" Dean wondered aloud, forcing his attention back onto Benvolio.
"Two weeks," Cas admitted, and Dean let out a huff of surprise. "I didn't tell you because I thought you wouldn't approve," he explained, and Dean immediately felt like a grade-A jerk.
"Hey, you're your own man. If you want a low-maintenance pet, you go ahead and get one. If you want to, I don't know, lower the thermostat 20 degrees or throw a wild house party, then you should probably check with everyone else. But don't be afraid to do thing that makes you happy just because you think I wouldn't like it."
I'd like anything that makes you happy, Dean was an impulsive second away from adding, but he thought the better of it.
"I don't want you to ever feel like you have to keep things secret from me," he said instead.
"Okay. Thanks, Dean," Cas said sincerely, looking relieved, and Dean needed to find a way to distract himself before he blurted out his feelings, kissed Cas full on the mouth, or performed a clumsy combination of the two.
"Can I hold him?" Dean asked, and Cas nodded excitedly as he pulled Dean's hand closer to him. He turned it so that Dean's palm faced the ceiling, then he gently folded and squeezed until his hand formed a perfect little guinea pig sized pocket.
"Here you go," Cas muttered softly as he placed Benvolio in Dean's hand with all the tenderness and patience of a loving parent.
"Might need two hands," Cas added a moment later, taking Dean's other hand and bringing it up to better support Benvolio's weight.
Cas left his hands pressed warm against Dean's, blatantly ignoring the fact that Benvolio was rather chubby but no guinea pig was that heavy. He resisted the urge to run his fingers along the backs of Dean's, to trace over joints and bone and skin and push up farther, along his wrists and forearms. To cup Dean's elbows and pull him closer, making sure not to squish Benvolio (who was very vocally in favor of this series of events) as he pressed a kiss against that unfairly inviting mouth.
Instead, Cas merely let his palms rest against Dean's knuckles, trying to quiet his rapidly pounding heart as he realized he and Dean were practically holding hands. Sure, a matchmaking guinea pig had been tossed into the mix, but Cas wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth (a colloquial phrase Benvolio had taught him as he'd routinely checked his small fluffy friend's gums).
Cas couldn't remember the last time he and Dean had even gotten to spend this much time together; somehow living under the same roof hadn't managed to offer any bonding opportunities thus far. Luckily enough, Benvolio was just as keen as Cas and the others to squeeze a romance out of this prolonged will-they-won't-they period of frustration, confusion, and melodramatic longing.
Benvolio gave a small squeak, jerking Cas out of his musings and reminding him of the plan he and the guinea pig had devised late last night.
"Did I do something wrong?" Dean asked, his brow creased with worry as he looked down at the little ball of fluff.
"No, he's just hungry," Cas lied, more than willing to pretend he hadn't already given the guinea pig his morning meal. "I've run out of food and need to go to the farmer's market to pick up some vegetables," Cas continued. A half-truth; he was running low on celery, but was always sure to have more than enough on hand to feed his fluffy friend.
"You could accompany me if you'd like," Cas concluded, holding his breath as he awaited Dean's response.
"Sure," Dean told him with a smile, and Cas fought the small flutter in his stomach as he thought about going to market with Dean. Holding hands, tasting fresh fruits, wandering through stalls of vegetables without a care in the world.
Alright, they probably wouldn't end up holding hands. Cas knew this short lived guinea pig cuddle fest was probably the closest he'd get to real handholding with Dean for quite some time. But a little thing like reality wasn't going to stop Cas from dreaming.
A/N: Next chapter Cas and Dean go to an outdoor market and end up getting caught in the rain; more fluffiness and cuteness and just general aww-factor