Decided that if last chapter delved into Sam's past major relationship, this one should address Dean's. I was very much a Lisa sceptic when I binge-watched the show last year. I remember at the time being like 'who dis bitch', not because I disliked her at all, but because we literally did not know her and really, neither did Dean. The idea that he'd randomly decided that a one-night-stand from years beforehand was his eternal happiness was just ludicrous. It still is. Now, though, I'm kind of a fan of Lisa in hindsight. She ended up being pretty great and her relationship with Dean was too. She was good for him and she helped him, maybe even more than Cas could have done at that point (and yeah I already shipped destiel at the time). Plus, I reckon that it was always more about Ben than Lisa. Anyway, there are my thoughts on Dean/Lisa: I'm glad it wasn't endgame, but I respect that he loved her and I genuinely like her. I'm glad she and Ben survived.
'Hot Fuzz' is a top film and if you haven't seen it, you should. Please R&R!

Dinner that night is spaghetti Bolognese. I carefully chop carrots and zucchinis into small cubes under Sam's instruction as Dean dices the onion at the table, swearing in a thick voice. At first I wonder if Dean has emotional memories which are triggered by the vegetable, but then the fumes reach me and I feel my eyes sting too. Once we've cooked the vegetables, we set them aside and Dean takes over, cooking off the mince before adding the vegetables back in and pouring the pasta sauce over the whole thing. I loiter in the kitchen, watching him, whilst Sam retires to the library with a beer. Dean keeps up an easy chatter about the ingredients he's adding and I'm surprised that he knows so much about cooking, since he eats very little but burgers and fries and pizza when he's out hunting. I remark as much and he shrugs, smiling as he splashes red wine into the sauce.

"I wasn't much of a cook most of my life. It was Lisa who got me into it. She's an amazing cook and I used to hang around her when she made food, just watching..." he trails off, lost in memories.

I watch his eyes drift away and the tight, angry feeling in my gut catches me by surprise. Am I jealous? I must be, yes. After all, if I'd needed confirmation that Dean loved Lisa, I had it. He just described himself doing exactly what I was doing now: hanging around the one I loved while they cooked, content to just observe them. I sigh, annoyed at myself. Jealousy is a very human emotion, and not one I felt often as an angel. In fact, the first time I ever experienced it was watching Anna kiss Dean, soon after I met him. That was the first time I really became aware that I desired him, on any level. The jealousy feels stronger now. It feels, as Dean might put it, fucking terrible.

"... fresh is best, but dried is fine," Dean is saying, and I shake myself mentally, trying to pay attention. But all I can see is Dean and Lisa in a kitchen like this one, laughing over the stove top, embracing, happy together...

"Cas, you alright?" I blink and see worried green eyes staring at me.

"Do you miss her?"

There's a ringing silence and I feel myself flush as I realise I said the words out loud. Damn human impulse control, it's practically non-existent. I hold Dean's gaze though, despite my churning stomach. Dean looks away and stares at the Bolognese sauce, stirring slowly. Then he answers in a low voice.

"Yes."

I nod, sighing again, but he continues in a rush.

"I miss having that life, is what I mean. I miss the patterns and the safety of having a normal routine. I miss being in a long term relationship where I was someone else's rock, where things were constant and stupid shit like laundry and shopping lists actually mattered. I miss being a parent. I miss Ben. I really miss Ben."

His voice is a little shaky and he's still staring into the food in front of him as though it's speaking back to him. I step forward and place a tentative hand on his shoulder. He jumps and glances at me, eyes haunted. I search for the right words.

"I'm sorry you had to give them up, Dean. I did go back and check on them a couple of times, but Sam said that a clean break would be best for you, so I kept it to myself. They're doing well, though. Ben especially. He's so like you."

I smile fondly and he swallows, eyes a little bright. He whispers: "I didn't know you did that. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. They were so important to you. I know that you didn't want to leave them... I know that nothing can make up for them."

Dean frowns at me and turns to face me properly. My hand slips off of his shoulder and he catches it, holding it awkwardly in mid air. "What do you mean?"

I glance at our joined hands in confusion and he quickly drops my fingers, but continues to watch me questioningly. I try to elaborate.

"Lisa and Ben. You were happy with them. Things were right for you when you were with them. I know, Dean, I was watching over you."

Dean stares at me, a strange sadness in his face. "How long were you planning to keep an eye on me, Cas?"

I tilt my head and return his frown. "Well, your whole life. I wasn't just going to... Dean, you were supposed to forget about me, that's fine, but it's different for me. I can't forget about you."

I feel deeply uncomfortable once the words have left my mouth. They reveal too much. Dean is too close and his green eyes are too intense on mine. He speaks in a low voice.

"Cas, I didn't forget about you for one single day. You keep saying I was so happy with Lisa and Ben, and I was, but it wasn't perfect and it wasn't right. I was never going to be able to keep up that pretense. Sam wasn't there. You weren't there. It wouldn't have been enough, in the end." He pauses and shakes his head, eyes travelling around the small kitchen before returning to my rapt gaze. "Honestly? This is kind of it for me. Living here, with Sam and you and Kevin. You guys are my family and I'm actually content here, despite all the crap that's always going on around us. I'd like to keep this going. This is what's right for me."

Dean smiles at me then, a genuine smile, and his shoulders relax. I smile back faintly, feeling a little overwhelmed. I was so sure that Dean's greatest regret would always be losing Lisa and Ben, that Lisa was to him what Jess is to Sam. It's a relief to hear that he feels at peace with the way his life has turned out, and that he really does want me here in the bunker. I continue to watch his profile, standing closer than he'd usually allow, as he returns to stirring the Bolognese. We settle into a comfortable silence for a while and then Dean helps me through boiling the spaghetti. I go and fetch Sam once it's all ready.

Once we're all seated at the table, Dean lifts his beer up and Sam does the same. I recognise the gesture and repeat it, lifting my own untouched beer as well. Dean grins at me.

"To Cas," he proclaims, and I blink in surprise. "We're glad you're here, man."

"Hear, hear," agrees Sam firmly and I beam at them both, swelling with affection for these two men who are so eager to be my family. We clink bottles and I take a sip, grimacing a little at the taste.

"Is that 'bitter' again?" I ask Dean with interest, taking another sip and finding that the flavour smooths out very quickly on my tongue. He nods at me and then encourages me to try my food, eyes sparkling. I haven't eaten since breakfast so my stomach feels empty, and the smell drifting up from my bowl is quite appealing. Scooping some up with my fork, I frown at the dangling pieces of pasta. Why must they be so long? Sam snorts at my face but Dean shushes him and shows me how to twirl the pasta around my fork using my spoon.

"Lady and the Tramp," Sam mutters, laughing eyes on his brother. Dean shoots him an unimpressed look, but his ears are a little pink. I'm still wondering what the words could mean as I finish twirling the pasta and sauce neatly on my fork and place the food into my mouth. I stop wondering straight away; I'm too distracted.

"Oh my God," I mumble around my mouthful, eyes wide as the flavours wash over me. Dean and Sam both burst out laughing as I chew.

"Well, shit! Must be damn good food if it makes angels blaspheme," chuckles Dean, obviously pleased with my reaction. I swallow the pasta and smile at him.

"It's amazing, Dean! It's even better than P and B and J. Is all pasta this good or are you just very skilled?"

I meant the question in earnest but Sam snorts into his bowl as though I've said something funny. Dean beams at me, flushing.

"I guess I'm just awesome at cooking."

I nod seriously and concentrate on twirling another mouthful of pasta onto my fork. Sam and Dean begin a conversation about some Italian dish that Bobby used to make but I keep my eyes closed and my mind on the taste of the Bolognese. I can detect both salt and sweet, although the sweet is very faint. There are other flavours I don't have words for, though. There are sharper parts and softer parts and parts that change as I chew. There are parts that seem to float upwards into my nose and parts that have a slight warming effect. It's fascinating and so complex, but harder to pick apart than when I was an angel and so much more pleasurable. Then there's the texture of the food, which is also layered and varying and very enjoyable. I open my eyes as I near the end of the meal.

"Food is wonderful," I proclaim. Sam was in the middle of explaining a film plot, from what I can tell, and Dean has his mouth full. They both pause and nod solemnly at me as though I've discovered the secret to being human, what it's really about, the profound basis of life itself. Hell, maybe I have.

After we've all finished eating Sam insists that we watch the film he was talking about, 'Hot Fuzz'. He says that Charlie recommended it to him and that it's funny. Dean tells us to go ahead and he'll join us soon.

Sam's bedroom has the biggest television so we head in there. Sam - oddly, considering it's his room - immediately settles on the desk chair, swinging it around and straddling it backwards. I settle on the opposite side of the bed and when Dean arrives, he shrugs before sitting next to me, legs stretched out like mine. I can faintly feel his body heat and it's a comforting presence next to me. The film starts and I watch attentively. I know that some of the jokes are lost on me but the laughter of the two brothers is pleasant and Dean nudges me lightly now and again if I miss something amusing, the contact a mild shock of warmth every time.

It's towards the end of the film that the urge to move closer to him becomes impossible to resist. As an angel such an impulse would have been effortlessly quashed but as a human, I'm weak in every single way. I take a deep breath and shift nervously to my left in a quick, clumsy movement, clasping my hands in my lap and keeping my eyes locked on the screen. My thigh and hip bump lightly against Dean's and our upper arms press together. I feel his muscles twitch and tense at the contact; his breathing hitches and I know he turns his head to look at me, although I don't return his gaze. My heart thumps in my ears.

It's so strange. As a human I'm far more aware of Dean's discomfort, almost on an instinctual level. I don't need him to tell me when I'm acting 'weird', because his body language is more obvious to me now. But I care about it less. It's that selfishness again, just like last night. I know that I'm pushing his boundaries but I want to so much, and what I want matters much more to me now that I've lost my grace. Dean shifts restlessly next to me, the bare skin of his arm hot through the soft material of my shirt. His leg is firm against mine and I can faintly smell him. He probably wants me to move.

I'm not going to.