On Impulse Chapter 8, a supernatural fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own (duh.) A. N. Hope you enjoy. Also, fair warning – no update next month because I will be busy with different ideas. I can only hold back the plot bunnies so long before they decide to go full Alien on me.

"What did you have in mind?" Cas asks.

"The fun part of wedding planning. The bit that involves food." Dean grins at him. "Gotta scope out the best restaurant in the area."

"Oh." Castiel doesn't sound enthused, but why wouldn't he? Sure, his angel doesn't really have a human's taste buds (not anymore), but he has never batted an eye at Dean's penchant for good food...which is unhealthy, sure, that's why it's delicious, and why is he wasting time arguing with Sam inside his own brain? His brother hasn't even thrown one bitchface his way, because Dean has a point - they do need a venue.

"Problem, Cas?" he says, when the silence stretches intolerably.

"No, of course not. I'd just...assumed. Well, I might have received a few texts."

"From?"

"Clara. And, huh, also Aziraphale. Since they are coming, and - she pointed out that the Tardis is very, very malleable, in case we wanted," the angel explains, with a shrug.

"She wants to have our guests at her diner?"

"Not her diner, necessarily. The Tardis is somewhat sentient, and always very agreeable with the people who have a right to be there. So, if you wanted something classier, or flashier, or just - different, in any way, we would only have to inform Clara in advance. She swears that not only is it feasible, there's a high chance that it would only require moving some rooms to the forefront," Cas explains.

"Some rooms? I mean, sure, there's gotta be a kitchen or a room for Clara and her friends, but I've been there. The place wasn't that big."

"Trust me," Sam interjects, "they can beat Gabriel at his game. I mean, I assumed the same, but there's a late 1700s parlor in there."

"You never mentioned it before." Not that Dean thinks Sam's lying. It would not just be a weird thing to come up with, but pointless.

"It wasn't relevant." Sam shrugs. Then he grins, because he'll never outgrow being his annoying baby brother, and comments, "Not that I expect you'll want that room at the front."

"Very funny," Dean retorts flatly, but his lips twitch into a smile anyway. He's planning his wedding and joking around. Part of him still feels like this is vaguely unreal and he'll wake up soon, but - it is. "Nah, let's give 1700s a wide berth. Maybe a little cozier than last time, though?"

"Sure. Should I tell Clara to come by as soon as she can? I mean, looks might be discussed by text, but if you want to go through the menu, not even she expects you to approve sight unseen. Or, untasted."

"If she's not busy." What exactly does she do, anyway, when she's not catering to Cas and his friends? Lots of travelling, yeah, sure, Dean can relate. But surely she must have a business of her own, a little more important than spreading good food.
Wait, does that mean that they also have to find her somewhere to park the Tardis? She found herself a spot without trouble last time, sure, but since they're calling her in. Then again. Maybe he can trust her with this. It's not like he knows if there are requirements besides enough empty space, after all. It's, huh, perhaps technically not magic, but close enough that he wouldn't be surprised by weird conditions about aligning with the stars or...who knows, that's the point.

"She'll be by soon," Cas announces, then. "Just a little detour needed first."

"Sure. I mean, it's not like we're in a rush, technically." So long as she arrives sometime this month, it'll be perfect. What counts as a little sidetrip to a universe-hopping...thing anyway?

In the meantime, he still needs to text Benny. Or you know what, call, it'll be quicker. Also, he lowkey wants to know what his friend is up to, and this way maybe he can overhear something. He walks out of the room, phone in hand.

"Benny? Hope I'm not interrupting anything..."

"Never, brother. I'm pretty much done with my plans. You coming back? Need something?"

"Yeah, about that. We decided to stay a little longer. You know, the barn needs to be freshened up, and then – a few more things, maybe. I can send Cas to give you the bunker's keys if you want, or you could join us if you prefer. When you're entirely done, of course. With...whatever it is."
"Mostly setting up my version of meal delivery, again. Don't worry, I didn't give them the bunker's adddress."

"Wasn't worried, "Dean snapped. " But you know, since we're on the subject. Can you actually eat, besides your usual diet?"

"It's not going to make me less hungry, but it's not gonna kill me either. Like the weird kids who end up eating dirt. And just like them, maybe best if I keep my portions small. But I definitely don't mind being weird on occasion, you know that. If there's a good reason."

"Well, I still have to make the final decision on the matter, but I can promise delicious reasons. Trust me. And huh...you said eating alone won't kill you, but any 'allergy'?"

"None that I know of. We'd have to be extremely unlucky to discover one right on your big day, and for some reason, I feel lucky." It's not a videocall, but Dean can feel Benny's smirk all the same.

He smiles right back, even if his friend can't see him. For someone who got caught in the Winchester rotten luck, Benny is way too cheerful. But considering his return, for once the feeling might be warranted. Hopefully. "You're due some luck, that's for sure. So? Should I send Cas?"

"Nah, send me the address. I'll come along if you are staying a while."

"See you, Benny."

"Soon, brother."

"Here's Clara's new address," Cas says, showing him a text twenty minutes later. Close by, too. That girl is so very obliging.

It still looks exactly the same as last time, except there's a closed sign.

Dean hesitates for a moment, but Clara opens the door for them. "I didn't want any random customers, sorry. "

"Hello," Azi says. Other-Crowley, next to him, waves at them.

"The British asshole was busy?" Dean asks.

"Food is not Sherlock's area," Clara explains, with a smile. "Now, Aziraphale instead... I don't know if you'll need a consultant, but just in case, you can trust his input."

"I thought angels couldn't taste things...not normally," Sam points out, taking the words out of Dean's mouth.

"What?" One of Azi's hands goes to his mouth. Dean wonders idly if he's gonna be sick. "How could anyone do that to their creations?"

"My perceptions are much too acute to let me experience food the way humans do," Cas retorts, a little snooty.

"Plus, God used to be an asshole, and the new one is...very new. I don't think Jack even knows it needs fixing," Dean points out. Can it be, even? He'd always thought it was a trade-off. And while he loves Cas with or without his grace, he'd much rather have him as an angel. If only because he's healthier that way.

"I guess that means you're the only one who gets a vote on the menu," Clara says. "So, huh, any demands?"

"Meat," Dean replies immediately, because of course.

Clara huffs a little. "That is...possibly the vaguest specification I've ever heard, but sure, I can work with that. Let's try to get somewhere, huh? Are we thinking barbecue, roast, boiled, fried... All four, why not, or - well, if you have any specific kind of preparation in mind I might not have mentioned, I'm listening. "

"All four?" Dean echoes, a little surprised. "How many dishes are we thinking about?" He loves meat, but it just didn't compute.

" Obviously, as many as you want. Sorry. Before popping by Aziraphale, I've been to Italy...well, one Italy, to see some friends. I mentioned my plans, received a few recipes, and was told I better hire someone, because I was looking at two-three pastas and two-three protein based recipes, right? Just counting main dishes."

"If you do need extra hands, we have a friend with previous experience in food service." Ok, maybe it's an asshole move to volunteer Benny, but it slipped out before Dean actually thought. Damn his mouth for being quicker than his brain.

"Don't worry, my friends didn't realize that the Tardis will streamline any difficulty a normal person would encounter in my shoes...she's a darling like that." Clara pats the counter affectionately.

"My thanks to the lady." And he means it. "Well, ladies. You didn't have to offer."

"You haven't gone shopping with Me. This is definitely the easiest option for a gift...for all of us."

Dean smiles, then Sam interjects, "Me's her shy friend. Hope she's in a better mood lately."

"She has appreciated the books," Clara replies. Before Dean can tease his brother about nerding out with girls, rather than...anything else, though, Sammy groans a little. Oh. Must be those books. Well, they're out there, and apparently you can't scrub anything from the internet.

"Maybe we could...go back to the matter at hand?" Azi suggests, in such a kind tone that Dean is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he's less "angel on a mission" (even when said mission is their menu) and more "Let's forget whatever's making anyone uncomfortable."

"Mmm...Okay, so. Three and three sound definitely too much, mostly because - I'm not spending half a day at the table, as much as I love food. Maybe a couple of meats, a few side dishes..." Dean shrugs.

"Hors d'oeuvre, and naturally, dessert?" Azi suggests. And possibly Dean wouldn't even have thought of that French whatever it is, but it does sound like it's going to make the meal fancier. And with British snobs invited, showing that he can handle a little extra frill may be for the best.

"Huh, sure. Suggestions for that? Any specialty of the house? I can recognize talent, and I'd rather not get in the way of it."

"Soufflés. I was a little obsessed for a while," Clara laughs, a little self-deprecatingly."In fact, I might have prepared a couple to de-stress, so if you want a taste..."

Dean nods, because of course. He wants to try everything.

A moment later, Clara is bringing over her creations.

""Three cheeses version. Now, normally they'd be served with a little salad, but -" she announces. She did do her homework about them, huh, if she already has an alternative in mind.

"Please," Sam interjects.

Dean huffs, "Let's keep it normal. Sammy's just gonna take my share of salad, too." He better, if he wants Dean to have rabbit food at his wedding.

Dean tries to hold back a moan at the first bite. It's that delicious. Yes! They're going to have these. They have to. "You wouldn't happen to have written a cookbook too, would you?"

Clara laughs again. "I'll think about it."

Remembering his earlier plans, he licks his fingers and mumbles "Let me just shoot a text then we'll go over the rest of the menu."

- Hey Jodie, I was thinking. Not fair that we always come round and you never do, even if the bunker has a kitchen. Did the girls starts a new diet, anything I should know?

Sue him for the subterfuge, but inviting them to his wedding over a text feels wrong. Most of the guests get a personal visit from God, for obvious reasons. The least he can do is make things a little more formal. (And hey, if the British bastard gets nosey, at least someone can show him Dean knows how to do things all pretty and proper.)

- I'm not raising fussy eaters. Well, they're pretty much raised already, but seriously, Dean? You think they need a diet?

- I'm against the idea on principle, actually. But most of my experience with young women was pillow talk. Food didn't tend to come up. It seemed prudent to check.

Ok, I won't unleash Claire on you. This time.

"So, it turns out we have no special needs among our guests, which is great."

"On second thought," Sam argues, because when doesn't he? "Oh fuck Dean, we have to text Jack. We forgot Rufus, didn't we? Bobby's not going to appreciate that."

"Fuck," Dean echoes. How did they manage to forget Rufus? The old hunter had been awesome, in his own prickly way. Dean really wouldn't have minded eventually turning into him if he lived long enough, just like the man had predicted. Well, obvious minor details aside.

"I was about to say that we didn't probably need to worry, since he was observant only when it suited him, but just in case you know. Keep it in mind."

"Yep. Huh...does anyone know what the matter is with Jewish diet anyway? Aren't there like hundreds of rules?"

Chuck's fussy era, he guessed. Unless...no, if there had been another god on the Bible side instead of the many, many pagan pantheons, maybe Chuck's and Amara's dad, they'd have met him by now.

"I admit I never had to research it in depth before. But let's start with avoiding pork and keeping dairy and meat dishes separate, and that's already a good guideline. Besides, if your guest can eat most things, if we do mess up about one dish it won't be the end of the world. Even if he's in an observant mood," Clara offered.

"Ok, someone knows at least halfway what to do. Great. Research just isn't my idea of fun, especially food-related. I was hoping it'd be more of a following the inspiration thing. Speaking of, well, might be a weird question... Recipes with honey?" Dean isn't going to blush. But yes, he wants a tribute to Cas in the menu. Sue him. It might have come out during his crazy phase, but his angel's love for all critters in creation (and a natural understanding with bees, very unlike him) is just too adorable not to celebrate. Besides, it's not like most people will realize. It's fine.

"Yeah, sure. Well, since we want to avoid ham, a recipe popped first in mind. Give me a little bit, we're gonna warp time just a smidge so it cooks quicker, and I'll let you try it." And with that, Clara disappears.

"You have lovely taste," Aziraphale remarks when they're alone.

"Thanks?" Though Dean's still a little on the fence about the angel. Yes, he's a friend of Cas. But he'll need a lot more evidence that he's the fun kind of friend and not the kind that makes him want to huff, "Really, Cas?"

"I wanted to say... getting us has been Clara's initiative. I wouldn't want you to think we're overstepping. In fact, if I have..." Dean has met his share of angels, but it's the first one he sees that's a total fretter - about possibly offending him, too, of all things.

"You haven't," he cuts in.

His Crowley puts a hand on Azi's arm, and the angel relaxes.

"Trust me, you'll notice if Dean is pissed off," Cas mentions, and Dean would flinch at the mention of his...record with acting in anger. But there's a besotted smile (there's no other word for it) on his fiancé's face, like it could be an endearing quirk, too. Damn, they talk about the Crazy Cas period, but maybe the angel never recovered. That's why they're together in the first place.

"In fact, well, if anyone has suggestions, I'm listening. Like, Cas, something you were fond of when you lost your grace? Even if it won't be the same..."

"My relationship with food was...complicated. With everything, really. And I had more of a penchant for breakfast foods, anyway, Unless you mean to invite people out before the ceremony, I'm going to go and trust your expertise." His angel closes the argument with a kiss. Just like that.

Dean does not moan into it - barely. He does, though, wonder if the Tardis would be pissed off if they took a minute to explore... find a corner with no siblings or friends, and ideally a couch or - He's not going to hope for a bed. That'd be a little much to ask. Nope. He can behave.

"Sammy?" Using his brother as distraction is a tried and true technique.

"I've been told more than once that my taste is fucking weird." At Dean's wide grin, his brother adds, "No, not because I eat my vegetables. Anyway, you have an official consultant there."

"I guess," Dean huffs. Which is not the most enthusiastic approval.

"Hey, my angel is a fine gourmet," Crowley retorts, glaring. Yes, he's wearing his glasses, but Dean has no doubt the demon's glaring anyway.

Dean shrugs. It's not that he doesn't believe that. He's just a little wary of trusting anyone else's angel. Yes, yes, different universe, different senses, from what they said the other time actively trying to stop the apocalypse, like Cas, instead of fucking over people's lives for their - or someone else's - aim. Still.

Not that he thinks Azi would poison them all, not with God there. And even if Jack had to leave early, there'd be Balthazar, Gabe, possibly Michael, and however many Cas decides to add to their guest list last minute. More than enough firepower to kick one stray angel. Even from an alternate universe. But old habits die hard. Assume the worst, so if it happens you're ready.

Cas' hand is on the back of his neck, and Dean's thoughts stray again. How is he expected to think of anything serious, from his menu to the possibility of sabotage, when this is going on? He can almost feel his own neurons straining for the connection, trying to melt down his vertebrae and tie around Cas' fingers somehow.

That doesn't happen, of course. Which is kind of lucky, because okay, it would probably be gruesome besides weird as fuck. But Dean's scale for that is way, way off most other creatures in the multiverse, so it only registers when he's finally unwound (at a molecular level, perhaps) from his worried spinning, with a deep, involuntary sigh.

Now, if Cas could stop, maybe Dean wouldn't be overwhelmed by the instinct to cuddle up to him. He has an image to maintain. Sort of. Besides, his angel no doubt got what he wanted.

Now, if Cas would stop, maybe Dean wouldn't be overwhelmed by the instinct to cuddle up to him. He has an image to maintain. Sort of. Besides, his angel no doubt got what he wanted. Can't keep his guard up when he's trying not to jump Cas. (Doesn't need to, yes, the message is clear.)

Before he can do or say anything else, whether to make things better (should he apologise to Azi?) or worse - or at the very least, more awkward - his nose stops him in his tracks. Whatever it is, it smells so. Fucking. Good.

Right on cue, Clara walks in with a tray. "Lamb ribs with honey and wine" she announces, "and, well, a few more things, but you'll have to wait for me to get around to that cookbook. Let me know if it's an acceptable option."

Dean is already eating, and nods eagerly. Not going to wait until he has an empty mouth to talk with, because when he's done working on the delicious meat. he'll be licking his fingers anyway.

And when that's done, too (soon, very very soon of course,) he says, "Left you some, Sammy, you gotta try it". "And you" - he turns to Cas - "if it's at all possible, we're getting your tastebuds fixed before the wedding, not getting to taste these must be a sin."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Azi and his Crowley nod deeply in agreement. Good.

"In the meantime..." He kisses his angel again. It's not the same, but he can share the...atoms, or whatever Cas gets, with an extra layer of Dean Winchester love. That should make up for it.