Chapter Text
Arriving to the room, they find the small woman humming something while holding a huge book in front of her face -and almost half her torso- that reads in gold “Enochian words, prayers and spells” on its brown cover.
-Some light reading?
The tallest man approaches her and she leaves the book on the table.
She shakes her head and makes an exaggerated pout.
-Cas is being a meanie and won’t translate a word he said while you were gone.
Steps come out of the kitchen and the angel appears, holding a tray covered by a lid.; he shakes his head, leaving the dish on the table.
-I doubt you’ll be able to find it there, specially because the word wasn’t enochian.
With a loud groan, the woman slams her head on top of the book, making them laugh.
-What do you have there, Cas?
The usually very low voice rings softer, signaling the concealed tray and looking at the man.
Ignoring the raised eyebrows of the two youngest Winchesters, angel and hunter stare at each other for a moment before remembering the question.
-Oh, it’s...
The lid lifts, showing a gorgeous and steaming pecan pie that leaves Dean both breathless and wide-eyed.
After a minute, his eyes lift from the dessert, fixing themselves on Cas’s and looking at him with the same awe.
The feeling he’s tried so hard to swallow makes itself known once more and he can’t stop it, not able to break contact with the other; when the warmth starts to spread, Castiel blinks fast, turning his head away and to their companions.
But it’s until two small coughs sound that the man stops gaping.
-You see Sam? That there is the way we look at people in a completely platonic way!
The sarcastic voice is followed by a snicker from the addressed.
Dean glares in her direction and she shrugs.
The pie calls for his attention once more and the pan is pushed in front of him with a fork on its side.
He clears his throat, running his tongue through his lips.
-I uh. Thanks Cas.
The sincere tone was left in the air when a long arm reaches to the angel’s waist and pulls him to the side.
-And he cooked everything from scratch. No mojo involved.
The last words have his brows rising, so he takes a bite of the dessert with caution.
Immediately he can feel his mouth filling with liquid, the crust melting and the filling had just enough texture and sweetness.
After a few seconds, he notices his eyes are closed; when he opens them, all looks are fixed on his face.
He swallows, his thoughts clearing. Has he ever tried any of Cas’s bakery? He assumed maybe he had only helped to make the hamburger from earlier, but now he wasn’t so sure.
A vague image of the angel’s confused face with a patch of flour on his left cheek presents itself, making him smile.
-It’s amazing Cas!
There’s over excitement in his voice, but he nearly doesn’t care.
Castiel’s cheeks show a light tint, almost as small as the smile he shows.
-I’m glad you like it, Dean.
Taking another mouthful, the man smiles, crumbs framing his lips, resulting in two pairs of brows rising with a grin from the others.
-When did you learn to cook?
As far as he knows, the angel doesn’t eat -except for that one time Famine affected Jimmy Novak’s hunger- and had mentioned how his taste buds were different from human ones.
The answer doesn’t come from who he expects, but from his brother instead.
-You taught him.