bakerstreet | THE PICTURE PROMPT MEME.

[ it's no fun, being pulled out of the action. castiel mislikes being left behind, but he doesn't argue it overmuch because he doesn't have a leg to stand on, really, and he hates to admit how severely the curse incapacitated him, but it did. he was all but running on empty by the time the curse was lifted from him, and back at the bunker he had passed out for five full days once he'd had a bed under him.

it's been weeks now, and he's feeling much better, but he isn't yet running at a hundred percent. he tires easily, his grace still kicks painfully inside of him every once in awhile, and he occasionally still finds the urge to sleep. soon he'll be back on his feet again, ready to hunt, ready to help, but until then he's contented himself with research duty, and looking after sam and dean in whatever ways he can. he's learned how to prepare coffee and tea and a few easy meals, though nothing terribly complicated - castiel can't exactly taste anything properly, and one cannot properly cook if one cannot properly taste, but it's something. feeling like he's contributing, even in small ways, feels good.

when sam and dean returned after the nachzehrer, beaten bloody, the impala chugging and badly damaged, he had fussed and complained but ultimately patched them up and made them comfortable, happy to be helpful. it's been a quiet week since, with no new cases cropping up, sam burying himself in research, dean working hard to restore the impala.

this afternoon, castiel knocks on dean's bedroom door, carrying a mug of spiced coffee that he can't appreciate the taste of, but it certainly smells divine. ]

Dean?

[ Poor Baby took a hard one on the last case. The front and back windshields needed to be replaced, one tire, six lights... And don't even get Dean started on the front end damage. It was a goddamn nightmare. He did what he could for her, which basically meant stripping her down of busted parts. But the bunker, for all Dean loves it, isn't exactly a junkyard or a garage. He had to drive around in a spare car a hundred miles in each direction to get all the parts he needed, and even then, he'd made half a dozen trips to local shops to get more and more tools and supplies he was used to having around at Bobby's. It was an ordeal. But, it was a labor of love, and after fighting off the Mark of Cain and facing down the Darkness, Dean was glad to be back to something that felt normal again.

Dean's in bed with his headphones on, flipping through a car parts magazine when Cas knocks. He pulls the headphones onto his neck just in time to hear Cas call his name, and he raises his voice to answer. ]

Yeah? Come on in, Cas.

[ It still feels weird, Cas without his wings, knocking instead of just suddenly being there beside his bed or standing too close behind him. Weird, but... kind of nice. Normal. Which is a word Dean never thought he'd use for Cas, but it's not like he's one to talk. Normal for them means a day when they only clean their weapons instead of using them, and only read about killing monsters instead of doing the job. And when Cas knocks, Dean figures that's what it's about. Monsters, or maybe some new lead on Metatron. After all, it's been quiet. Nice, just the three of them, on the mend. About time things got shook up again. ]

[ sorry, dean, no monsters. only castiel, comfortable without his coat and blazer, carrying a thick, ceramic mug that steams hot in his hands. he has to be careful not to spill it while he opens the door. ]

I apologize if I'm interrupting you.

[ not that dean looks particularly busy, but, you know, the niceties. it's important to be polite. cradling the mug in his hands, castiel crosses the room to dean's bed, and seats himself somewhere in the general proximity of where dean's knees are, the scent of pumpkin spice filling his nose. ah, he misses eating.. ]

But I would like you to try this.

Edited 2015-11-04 20:35 (UTC)

[ No wings, and no ~~shirt~~ trench coat. Cas really has come a long way. And Dean can't say he doesn't like it. Cas may not fit in well with people, but he's always had more heart than any other angel Dean ever met. ]

Thanks.

[ He sets aside the magazine and takes the mug when it's offered to him. He raises an eyebrow when he smells it and looks skeptically over at Cas, because it sure smells like something Sam would drink, not him. But Cas brought it to him, delivered it to his room, even, so Dean's willing to give Cas the benefit of the doubt and at least try it. He mentally prepares himself for the taste of something awful before he takes a sip, asking about it while already bringing the mug up to his lips. ]

What is it?

[ don't worry, sam got a mug too, but that doesn't mean that dean is exempt. besides, this is an introductory drink.. there's much more waiting in the kitchen, where this came from. in retrospect, he should have perhaps tried more suitable bait, but it will have to do. ]

It's called pumpkin spice.

[ his eyes follow the mug unerringly, fixed on dean's face as he waits for him to drink. that dean is looking suspicious is clearly of no importance, for castiel's eyes drop to the mug, then lift to dean's face again, expectantly. ]

I don't understand why. I don't think pumpkins have anything to do with it. But the kind woman at the grocery store insisted that it was good, and that this is the time of year to drink it.

[ whatever that means. but, he has learned, apparently autumn is for pumpkins. ]

[ Honestly? It could be worse. It could be better, because it's pumpkin spice coffee with cream and sugar and everything, and Dean's more of a dark roast taken black kind of guy. But it's not one of those latte or espresso things. Dean can drink it. ]

Not bad.

[ He says honestly, smacking his lips and trying hard to hide his smile. Sometimes, Cas's cluelessness drives him right up the freaking wall, and then there are times like this when it makes Dean's heart fill up with a weird kind of protective pride. He just blinks through the feeling though, clears his throat and moves on. ]

Know what else it's the time of year for? [ Dean's smile widens into a grin as he answers his own question. ] Pumpkin pie. You didn't pick up one of those while you were out, did you?

[ castiel watches with muted apprehension, eyes pointed and unblinking, and when dean doesn't immediately spit it out and pull a face, he counts it as a victory. not bad is good enough. ]

Actually -

[ funny dean says that, because castiel has all the fixins waiting and prepared in the kitchen, organized and neatly stacked, but he'd hoped first to snag dean's attention with the bait. it seems to have worked even better than he had expected. the hint of a smile tugs at one corner of castiel's mouth, well-contained excitement flashing in his eyes. ]

- no. But I've gathered the ingredients. I thought you might show me how to prepare it.

Yeah?

[ Dean's surprise and excitement is much less well-contained, obvious on his face. Of course, there's something suspicious in that Cas managed to find all the ingredients (and a recipe) instead of just buying the pie itself, when this time of year, they're freaking everywhere. Even the Gas 'n Sips have them. But hey, Dean's not complaining. Nothing's better than homemade, and he doesn't mind the work, especially if Cas is going to be around to help with the cleanup. So if Cas wants to learn how to make a pie, Dean's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. That's like teaching someone to spin gold, in his opinion. ]

Hell, I'm up for it. Let's get started.

[ Dean pulls the headphones off his neck and drops them aside the with magazine, climbs off the bed with the coffee still in hand, sipping it on the way to the door. He was just killing time anyway, and he's always happier when Cas is around to kill time with. Plus, he gets pie out of it when they're done. It's win, win. ]

[ truth be told, he had very nearly just picked up a premade pie until his eyes wandered over a recipe book - after that, he had been lost. what was meant to be a fifteen minute grocery run had turned into three hours of combing isles, and hitting up no less than three farmers markets.

because, as dean will see, he's gone whole hog here. the kitchen is stuffed full of autumnal things, up to and including: several pumpkins of various size, shape, and color (including probably around twenty of those really small cute ones, though some of them are definitely gourds), decorative corn, two leaf garlands, some round, squat candles, and, as promised, all the makings for a pumpkin pie scattered on the counter. and, of course, let's not forget the six variations of beer stacked neatly in the fridge.

.. so perhaps he went a little overboard, but research on pumpkin pie had led to research on autumn, and human custom, and really they're probably lucky that castiel didn't get his hands on more than this. but he looks pleased with himself, at least, standing in the doorway. ]

I wanted to be prepared. According to the internet, these are traditional autumn ornaments, and I thought perhaps we might try being festive.

[ sam's told him all about your love for christmas, buddy, but 'tisn't the season just yet. and castiel's got some serious cabin fever. ]

Woah.

[ Is all Dean can say as he wanders along into the kitchen next to Cas, and his steps slow and his eyes go wide as he looks at the ever-loving loads of red and orange crap all over the place. It's like a craft store met a vegetable stand and they had wild, cinnamon and pumpkin spice-flavored nookie all over every available surface of the bunker's seriously decent-sized kitchen. Dean blinks through his surprise, takes another sip of his cooling pumpkin spice coffee and listens to Cas talk about the internet. Of course, the internet. Somehow Dean feels like Sam is to blame for this. Just a feeling Dean's got.

Although if this were Christmas stuff and not the "autumn harvest" that's going on, Dean would be making a way different face. Less "What the hell happened" and more "I'm not going to cry. I'm a strong adult man, and I'm not going to cry."

Anyway, it's all harmless. Kind of nice, even. Homey. So as long as Cas is having fun doing it, what's the harm? Dean claps his free hand on Cas's shoulder. ]

Alright, Martha Stewart. As long as you're sticking to the major holidays, I'm talking Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Halloween only... I'm fine with it. But if you start decorating the place for President's Day, Saint's Day, the Midsummer Solstice... I'm putting my foot down.

[ Dean goes to put his mug down on the counter, but between the ingredients and the decorations, there's no room for it. He finally just chugs the rest of it and drops the mug in the sink, washes his hands and grins over at Cas while he starts rolling his sleeves a little higher on his elbows. ]

Okay. Pie time. You got the recipe?

[ don't you blame poor sam for this, he's got nothing to do with it except just a little. and be thankful, because if it weren't for sam you'd really be making this pie from scratch. why do you think he bought so many actual pumpkins? ]

Recipe?

[ oh. right. castiel had simply picked out ingredients as per instructed on the back of the pumpkin filling can. his eyes dart around the room, then narrow thoughtfully, before he steps toward the counter to pluck up the can, spinning it in his hands as he turns back toward dean and holds it to him, label out. yes. recipe. ]

Is there something wrong with President's Day?

[ Yeah, no. Cooking is fun and all, but like hell Dean is making a pumpkin pie from scratch. He tried it once around Thanksgiving time when he was young and stupid, and Sonny at the boys home was stupid enough to let him try it. He'd made a mess, wasted whole days on it, and the damn thing tasted awful. Never again. Dean's got no problem using canned pumpkin, and the recipe off the back is as good as any. Somebody's mom somewhere came up with it. Dean takes the can when Cas offers it, glances over it, then raises an eyebrow at Cas over the top. ]

Yeah, there's something wrong. It's not a real holiday. [ But this is a debate he doesn't need to have with Cas, because half these holidays are religious, and it's bad enough talking religion with a normal person, nevermind an angel. ] Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween. Those you decorate for. [ He sets down the can, starts turning towards the oven before reconsidering, looking back over at Cas and pointing at him, dead serious. ] Especially Christmas.

[ Then he turns back to the over again, sets it to preheat, opens the door to make sure he didn't leave anything in there, then shuts it again. Then he heads over the cabinets and starts pulling out bowls and measuring cups. He holds a small bowl out for Cas to take, followed up with a fork. ]

Here, champ. Crack two eggs in that, beat 'em up.

[ Simple enough. Doesn't even take measuring. Cas can handle that, right? Dean turns back to the counter, starts setting measuring cups next to the ingredients they're going to measure. It'd be faster if he just did it all himself, but Cas said he wanted to learn, so Dean waits for him to do it. Anyway, making pumpkin pie filling is about the easiest damn recipe in the world, if you've got the canned pumpkin. It's not like this will take long, even going through it with Cas at a snail's pace. ]

[ the recipe seems satisfactory, which is good enough for castiel. he watches with curious, rapt attention while dean ambles around the kitchen, preheating the oven, arranging bowls and measuring cups and he looks good here, comfortable, natural, and it's nice to watch.

it strikes castiel that it's been a.. very long time since they've been able to have time to themselves like this. it seems like an eternity had passed while dean bore the mark of cain, and though he resisted it well enough by most standards, it had changed him. even dean's good moods hadn't been very good, and speaking with him, being around him had been like talking with a ghost, or someone in dean's body, looking out of his eyes, using his voice, but it wasn't dean in there. not really. not completely. and then they'd been tangled up with rowena, and castiel had dragged that curse around for too long - when it lifted, and they looked into one another's eyes again, it was like seeing an old friend.

it's the same now. nostalgic. it feels like castiel has regained something he had lost, and it fills him up with something warm. by the time dean turns toward him with the bowl he's smiling fondly, watching him with that long, affectionate stare. ]

Of course. [ he takes the bowl obediently, and steps to the counter to collect two eggs, breaking them neatly into the bowl. he doesn't know what to do with the shells so he just.. pops them back into the carton, then leans to fish a bit of broken eggshell from the bowl with his finger. ]

Do you like Christmas, Dean?

[ It's hard not to notice when Cas is doing that staring thing he does. Dean always catches him doing it, stares back, makes a face, whatever's appropriate given the level of crap they're dealing with that the time. And the crap level is off the freaking charts right now, with the Darkness hanging over their heads, a thing worse than Cain, and Death, and God all mashed together. That's some serious red level crap. But... even though the Darkness is looming... She's far away, young, quiet, out of the picture. They need to find out exactly what they're dealing with and how to stop it, but things outside are pretty quiet right now. Normal. And for him, Sam, and Cas... Things are good. Sam's not crazy, or going vampire or soulless. Cas got un-cursed, got his grace back, isn't teaming up with kings of hell and trying to take over the universe, and Dean... He's good. No more black eyes, or Mark of Cain, or Michael trying to jump into his skin. Things are downright boring for them right now. It's awesome.

So when Cas does that staring thing, it's not underlined with accusation or guilt or concern. Cas is goddamn smiling when he looks at him. And Dean smiles back, looks down, clears his throat. ]

Yeah. [ He answers, pulling a low cabinet open and getting the trash from under neath of it, holding up the can to Cas to toss the shells into. ] Yeah, I like everything about it. ...Except the religious parts.

[ it takes a few seconds of staring at the garbage can for castiel to understand what dean is expecting of him, but after rattling around in his head for a moment it sinks in, and he collects the shells from the carton and drops them into the trash, running his fingertips fondly over dean's knuckles before he's lifting the fork to begin beating the eggs in the bowl. ]

That's a little unfair, don't you think? It was religious before it was commercial. But I suppose it was a pagan holiday to begin with; heaven never particularly cared for Christmas. Jesus was born in September.

[ a shrug. not that castiel particularly cares what heaven thinks anymore, even if he kind of does, and always will. he loves his father, and the angels, but they aren't always right. still, christmas is a manmade holiday - though that isn't to say that heaven really minded the influx of prayer and attention during the winter months. ]

Why do you like it?

Edited 2015-11-05 15:28 (UTC)

[ Dean's so distracted by the fact that Cas actually manages to beat a few eggs without doing something weird to them that he almost doesn't catch the fact that Cas, an angel, is talking about a real date for the birth of Jesus Christ. Dean double-takes, and blinks slow, and shrugs his way through it while he leans back on the counter opposite Cas and watches him. An angel, in his kitchen, beating eggs with a fork. Dean's life is something, alright. But he wouldn't change it. He watches Cas, a smile just barely curling his lips, but talking about Christmas gets his smile going wider. ]

It's the season. The whole Christmas spirit. Family all together. Giving gifts. Helping charities. Kids getting toys they were dying for.

[ He walks over to Cas and takes the bowl out of Cas's hands before those poor eggs end up whipped, and he sets it aside. He keeps talking while he drags the bag of sugar between him and Cas on the counter and opens it up. ]

Baking Christmas cookies. Eating Christmas cookies. Caroling. Snow ball fights. Santa.

[ He hands Cas a 1/4 cup measuring cup and puts a mixing bowl in front of him. ] Three of those. [ He directs, and keeps adding to the list. ]

Eggnog. Ornaments. The commercial jingles. The feel-good movies. Christmas lights... Come on, man, what's not to like?

[ it's easy to get sucked in when dean is talking about something special to him, something he's passionate about, and after awhile castiel's hand stills on the fork and he's just watching dean, his eyes soft and attentive, while dean lists off the myriad reasons that christmas is indeed the best holiday ever. ~~suck it, halloween.~~

and when he takes the bowl out of his hands and replaces it with a measuring cup, castiel thinks for a moment about what he needs to do, but he's still listening, still flicking his eyes up to dean between each scoop he measures precisely, and pours into the bowl. ]

Those are all very good reasons.

[ and heartwarming, to boot. listening to him rattle it all off, it's really not so surprising that dean would really enjoy christmas. he's a kid at heart, kind and giving, and not for the first time, castiel feels that warmth and pride swelling in his breast. it's reasons like this that keep castiel loyal, these sort of memories that he recalls when things are tough, when dean seems hard or incorrigible. when something threatens to come between them. he remembers these things, and he can never betray dean, never give him up. ]

Perhaps we'll do this again, for Christmas. You can teach me how to make cookies.

[ It's funny, because when Dean was listing off all those things, he usually thinks of Christmases he's had in the past. They've never been big or special. Most of their Christmases were spent in motels, or riding in the back of the Impala, on the road with cartons of Chinese in the cooler because even the 24 hour diners weren't open on Christmas. But even on the road, Dean always loved Christmas. There was no time of year he liked seeing better from the window of a car than winter, with all the snow, and decorations, and Christmas lights. His favorite Christmases were the ones every couple years at Bobby's house, when their dad dropped them off because Dean begged him, promising to do extra chores and keep obedient months in advance. It didn't usually work, but Bobby talked their dad into it sometimes. And when they got there, Bobby went all out, best as he could, with a home cooked roast, more side dishes than the three of them could eat, and three different kinds of pie for desert, with vanilla ice cream and everything. His dad wasn't even there, but Sam and Bobby were. They gave each other presents from the stuff they found around Bobby's house, and those were the Christmases that set the standard for Dean.

But when Dean's talking about snow and movies, caroling and eggnog... He's not thinking about past Christmases. He's thinking about this next one, and doing all those things with Cas. Because for once, it seems like they're going to make it to December, all of them, together and fine. And that's... Thinking about that is the nicest thought Dean's had in a while. When he looks at Cas and smiles, it's easy and genuine, and for once, making plans for the future doesn't feel like a lie. ]

Sure, Cas. [ Dean agrees eagerly as his easy smile turns into more of a knowing grin. ] We'll make gingerbread. [ He can just picture it now. Doesn't matter if it's a gingerbread house or gingerbread men, letting Cas decorate anything is asking for disaster. Dean can't wait. ]

But for now, pie.

[ And pie again on Christmas, also. Apple pie, homemade, which is Dean's favorite. Just another reason to love the season. He folds up the sugar bag again, slides it aside, takes the measuring cup out of Cas's hand and hands him a 1/2 teaspoon instead, along with an open jar of pumpkin pie spice. ]

Three of those in the same bowl. [ He slides over a carton of salt. ] And one of the same of salt. [ After a beat, he adds. ] Gotta love multipurpose food.

[ dean's thoughts seem to wander, and castiel just continues to watch him fondly, all quiet affection, and when dean agrees, he smiles, and dips his head in a nod. he doesn't know what gingerbread is, doesn't think it sounds very much like a cookie at all, doesn't see what bread has to do with it, but it'll be he and dean together preparing it, and that's all that matters. he's looking forward to it. angels don't celebrate holidays, angels don't celebrate anything - but this? and everything dean is saying christmas will be? it feels warm, and nice. not necessarily because of decorations, or candles, or pumpkins, or gifts, but because of this. family. this sense of belonging that is finally settling into him, after seven long years knowing these boys.

castiel does as he's ordered without complaint. baking isn't so terribly hard, it seems. it's far easier for him to grasp than cooking. there's a precise science to it, exact measurements, and it feels neat and orderly and castiel likes that, likes the crisp rules, it feels good. three scoops of the spice, one of salt. he lifts his eyebrows at dean's comments, but otherwise doesn't give him the satisfaction of a laugh. tapping the salt neatly into the mixing bowl, castiel straightens again and looks to dean expectantly, a soldier awaiting command. ]

What now?

[ To be fair, it was a rough seven years. Not a lot of chance for family outings, most of the time. But this bunker was the best thing to happen to any of them, as far as Dean's concerned. ]

All of this.

[ He answers, dropping the heavy can of pumpkin in front of Cas, along with a can opener on top. Then he turns to the fridge and opens it, intending to get the half-and-half the recipe calls for when his eyes fall on the beer instead. ]

Jackpot. Just what every good cook needs.

[ Most chefs drink wine, if popular media has taught Dean anything, but he's always been a beer kind of guy, and whatever he's cooking still comes out just fine. He pulls out two bottles of beer along with the half-and-half, sets the latter down next to Cas's arm and cracks open the former. Then he sets one bottle by Cas and grabs a measuring glass, has to shove aside a few pumpkins and some fall decorations before he can set it in front of Cas's growing pile of supplies. ]

You measure liquids and solids differently. Different kinds of cups. So you did the dry already, now you use this one, the glass one, for the half and half. Fill it up to the one and a quarter cup line, and dump it in.

[ He takes a drink of his beer, leaning on the counter next to Cas's arm, confident enough at this point not to pay much attention to what Cas is doing. ]

When you're baking, you put all the dry stuff in first, then you add all the liquids, like the milk and the eggs. You just follow what the recipe tells you. It's not tough.

Edited 2015-11-05 18:04 (UTC)

[ dean slides the can of pumpkin toward him, along with some confusing contraption that he sort of recognizes but can't entirely place. he lifts the can opener, a thin crease appearing between his brows, but he's distracted when dean speaks again. right. he'd almost forgotten about the beer. dean seems pleased, which castiel counts as another victory.

he listens closely while dean explains wet versus dry measurements, hanging on every word like it's the most important thing in the world, because at the moment, it is. his eyes shift from dean's face, to the cup, and back again, and he nods shallowly, absorbent as a sponge. since he's not sure how to use the can opener, he starts with the half and half, pouring it carefully to the appropriate line, then even more carefully from the cup to the bowl, methodically, neatly.

and then it's time to tackle the can. he gives it a withering stare, holds the can opener in his hand and pulls the pumpkin filling closer, turning the can opener in his hand again because he knows he's supposed to use this thing to get the thing open, but he doesn't have any idea how it physically works.

please help. he's doing this so wrong. no, cas, those are the handles - ]

[ At first, Dean thinks maybe he's putting too much on Cas's plate at once, going too fast. But Cas is a smart guy, and he starts on the half and half, puts the right amount in, and Dean watches, waiting for him to get caught up on the canned pumpkin, go back to it.

...Dean keeps watching with growing concern as Cas inspects the can opener like it's from another planet. And that concern of Dean's gets lost somewhere between amusement and secondhand embarrassment when Cas starts using the handles to try to open the dam thing. Dean blinks slow for a second, adding this moment to his scrapbook of all the weird and wonderful things that make Cas who he is. And then he's setting his beer down and turning in towards Cas, taking Cas's hand in one of his, the opener in the other, and repositioning it in Cas's hand, curling his fingers around it. ]

Like this. [ He explains, eyes lowered and eyebrows raised as he squeezes one of Cas's hands around the handles, guides him into turning it with the other hand. ] Modern wonders, right?

[ He says, hands lingering warm for a minute over Cas's wrists before letting go. And he watches over Cas's shoulder to see if he's able to open the thing the rest of the way on his own, resisting the urge to warn Cas that the edges are going to be sharp. Because he may ask like he's new to the planet, but he's still a freaking angel. It hurts Dean's brain sometime, when he really thinks about it, and how when he first met Cas, how afraid of him he used to be. How dangerous Cas still is, that one touch from those hands, fumbling over a can opener, could ignite his insides in seconds. It's still hard to believe. ]

[ castiel is both offended and relieved all at once when dean swoops in to the rescue, because dammit dean, he is an angel of the lord he can navigate a damned can opener but also thank you dean you're a hero and he has no idea how this blasted thing works. he looks surprised, for a moment, that it should even go on in that direction, but once is clicks neatly over the lip of the can, he understands.

well that makes perfect sense. ]

.. of course.

[ he had known that all along, okay, he was only trying to test you. at any rate, once the thing is positioned correctly it's easy enough to figure out the rest, and it falls into place with only minor fumbling. castiel sets the lid aside and spoons the contents carefully into the bowl, then lifts his eyes to dean's face, expectantly. ]

Should I add the eggs, as well?

castiel / supernatural

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domestic husbandos coming right up

yes good

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halloween is the best and this is a thanksgiving thread. you're rude.

CHRISTMAS IS THE MASTER OF ALL HOLIDAYS BOW BEFORE YOUR KING PLEB

what do i see in you

i am cute

and a rude brat

mostly cute