FicWad

AN: I only wrote this because I'm bored, so I understand that it's not particularly well written but in all honesty I don't give a fuck. Also, if people like this I may add another one of Dean and Castiel's adventures in the kitchen.

“Hey, buddy.” Dean mumbles as he climbs into the passenger seat of The Impala after finally giving in to himself after a battle of: talk to him? Or leave him be? He decided that maybe it would be best to talk to the man who was sat inside his car, staring blankly at the world outside; if he wasn’t asleep or eating at the dinner table, Dean knew he’d find Cas there inside the car. It seemed he hadn’t moved from the spot since he returned to the bunker a week ago and it was starting to worry Dean.
“Hello Dean.” Cas says quietly, keeping his eyes looking out of the window.
“How are you feeling?”
“I feel…heavy. My whole body feels heavy and so does my heart. Is that normal, Dean?”
“Of course it’s normal. I think you’re depressed, and everybody gets depressed sometimes. You’re only human, after all.” Dean laughs weakly. He stops when Cas shoots him a sideways glare warning him that he’d gone too far that time.
Dean sighs deeply and looks down at the once-angel’s grey skin and tired eyes, trying to force the feeling of helplessness from his gut. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything that will make you feel better?”
“I need a distraction.” Castiel frowns. “Something to take my mind off…all of this.” he says, gesturing to his body. Dean noticed how much Castiel was starting to lose weight under one of the old t-shirts he’d given him after his return. Castiel was finding it hard to adjust to a full-sensory human body and basic needs, and Dean found himself reminding his friend to eat and sleep more than he thought he’d have to.
“A distraction?”
“Yes, Dean, a distraction.”
“Hold on, I’ll see what I can do.” Dean says as he gets out of the car.

About twenty minutes later, Dean returns to the Impala and opens the door for Castiel. He gets out slowly and stretches his legs as if he hadn’t moved from the spot in hours (well, to be honest, he probably hadn’t).
“Follow me.” Dean smiles, leading his friend back inside the bunker. Cas frowns as he looks around the bunker for a sign of whatever Dean had planned. Sam looks up from where he was sat on the sofa and shakes his head with a smile at Dean; obviously a look of hilarity - one that Dean just shrugs off as they make their way into the kitchen.

“Dean, what are we-” before he can finish his sentence, Dean places an apron around his neck and ties it up behind his back.
“Baking.” Dean winks, placing an apron over his own body. Castiel frowns as Dean pulls a set of weighing scales out of a cupboard and sets them down on the counter in front of him. He looks over to Dean’s work surface and sees a bag of self-raising flour, a bag of caster sugar, two blocks of butter, baking powder and four large eggs. Beside that sits a large cooking bowl, a wooden spoon and two greased circular baking tins.

“Come help me measure the flour.” Dean grins. Castiel can’t help but let himself smile at how Dean had prepared this all for him and he even finds himself blushing just a little. He walks over to his friend who was holding out the bag of flour towards him and takes it gingerly. “Pour it into the scales and I’ll tell you when to stop, okay?” Dean instructs. Cas nods and opens the bag. He tips it slightly, surprised at it’s weight, but nothing comes out. So he tips it up harder and, to his surprise, half the contents of the bag falls out, landing in the scales, on the floor, and all over Cas with a muffled thud. Dean laughs and Cas stands confused, feeling the specs landing softly against his skin.
“Dean…I’m so sorry.” Cas mumbles, looking down at his feet sort-of-ashamed.
“Dude, it’s only flour! It’s fine.” Dean says, nudging his friend reassuringly. “We’ll just need to shower after this.” He laughs quietly, running a finger down Cas’ cheek, leaving a streak of skin amidst a face of flour. Castiel watches Dean’s face for a few long seconds before turning back to the scales. Dean begins to scoop the excess flour out of the scales and back into the bag. He then instructs Castiel to pour the flour from the scales into the bowl, carefully this time, and he does what he’s told.
“See, you’re getting the hang of it now.” Dean grins. Castiel smiles back with pride and Dean keeps the small smirk on his lips even when the ex-angel turns back to the bowl to prepare the next ingredient.
“It’s amazing how humans taught their selves to do this, you know? I’ve spent millennia watching the homo-sapiens as they developed and grew…and some of the things they produced were truly remarkable – like cake, for example.” Cas said happily as he sliced the butter into smaller chunks for easier measurement, then placing them in the scales to be weighed. “And then, of course, you developed technology even further…and new foods were made and new machines were produced. Sometimes I think this development should’ve stopped a long time ago; some of the things being made now are truly unnecessary but it just strengthens my admiration for the human race, you know?” Cas rambles, mind half lost in what he’s doing, and half on what he’s saying.

-Dean smiles from where he’s sitting from the countertop. He’s always enjoyed listening to his angel friend talking about his outlook on Earth and the human race; and hearing him talk like that again, even after he lost the angel in him, makes Dean smile with some sort of relieved, renewed happiness that he’d missed feeling. Just because he lost his grace, doesn’t mean he’s any less Castiel – and that makes Dean thankful.-

“There are so many things that you humans have- wait, Dean, is this enough?” Cas says suddenly, turning around to Dean who was smiling mindlessly at his friend. It takes Dean a few seconds to realise that Castiel has stopped talking, and he jumps down from the counter and checks the scales,
“Yep – that’s perfect.” he says, tipping it into the bowl with the sugar and flour. “Now for the eggs. You’ve got to tap them against the bowl until they crack, then you break them in half and pour the yolk in with the other ingredients, got that?”
Castiel nods, and carefully picks up one of the eggs. He hits it against the glass just as Dean had instructed, but obviously too hard because the shell smashes and the yolk drips between his fingers. He frowns at the yellowy-goo that was forming into drips at his finger tips and watches as the drops fall to the floor.
“Come here.” Dean sighs, dampening a cloth. He takes Castiel’s wrist and cleans the egg away. Castiel looks up from his hand in Dean’s and catches Dean’s eye for a quick second.
“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel mumbles as he picks up yet another egg.

“Let me show you how to do it.” Dean says, positioning himself behind his friend. He places a hand over Castiel’s and directs his hand to hit the egg gently against the side of the bowl until a small crack appears. Castiel then takes control and breaks the egg in two, tipping the contents of the egg into the mixing bowl, but Dean doesn’t move from behind him. After all the eggs were successfully with the rest of the ingredients in the bowl, Dean hands Castiel a spoon and tells him to mix it all together until it’s a smooth textured mixture.

After the mixture was properly mixed (Dean mixed most of it, as Cas’ newly-human arms were too weak to carry on after a few minutes), Castiel poured it evenly into the two tins that Dean had previously greased. Once the cakes were in the pre-heated oven, due to be taken out in precisely twenty minutes, Dean decided that it was time to tidy away.

As Castiel is about to place the bag of flour into the cupboard, he realises that there is still a lot of the white powder covering the kitchen surfaces, and places it back down on the counter-top. Distracted, he places his hand in the middle of the flour and feels it sticking lightly against his skin. When he pulls his hand away, he can see the cracks and lines that litter the palm of his hand – the natural creases that lie within his skin. He almost turns to Dean to show him what he’s discovered, but instead he has a better idea:

Slowly he creeps up behind Dean as he stands at the sink, scrubbing the mixing bowl with a sponge, and grabs his arm right where he had when he had pulled Dean from hell. This startles Dean and he turns around quickly, showering the two with the soapy water and bubbles from the sink. When Castiel pulls his hand away, he sees that the flour hand-print on Dean’s shirt outlines exactly where his hand-print scar lies on the skin of Dean’s arm. Dean looks down at the handprint for a few seconds before quickly scooping up a handful of bubbles, placing them onto of Castiel’s head. Castiel laughs and shakes his head, bubbles flying across the small kitchen, and quickly places another floury hand-print to Dean’s chest.

“Hey, stop that!” Dean laughs, diving for the counter-top still covered in flour. He scoops a load onto his hand and turns around to hit Castiel’s butt, leaving a perfect hand print on his left cheek. In return, Dean receives a face-full of bubbles, to which Castiel finds his face covered in flour yet again. Dean grabs the bag of flour and throws a large percentage of the contents across Castiel’s body; Dean smiles with uncertainty at his friend looking down at his whitened clothes and skin. Without warning, Castiel lunges for the bag of flour and pours the rest over Dean’s head. Castiel giggles childishly as Dean shakes his head and the air is filled with white, landing on his own head. Dean grabs a handful of soapy water and throws it at Castiel, who manages to duck out of the way just in time; instead, the water splatters against the tiles and Castiel smirks at Dean’s defeat.

Dean dodges yet another handful of flour, only to slip on a puddle of soapy water, which leads him to fall to the tiled floor with a thud. Castiel looks down at his friend in horror and offers a hand to pull him up. When Dean finds himself on his feet again, he realises just how much the distance between the two has closed. Something about the closeness of Castiel’s face and the clarity in his blue eyes causes Dean’s breath to catch in his lungs; and before he can clear his head, he finds his lips lingering on the surface of Castiel’s.

Cas closes the distance completely and Dean finds himself placing a curious hand to Castiel’s waist. Their breath mixes and their lips move slowly against each other’s, neither of them daring to pull away. The world around them seems so far away, and so irrelevant. In that moment; the only thing that matters is each other. Castiel’s hand meets Dean’s, and the hunger in Castiel’s kiss tells Dean that he’s found something in being human that he’d never felt as an angel.

Something rare, but something very much needed in order to understand what it means to be human.