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“I miss food.”
Dean paused with the burger hovering in front of his open mouth.
“Well, you’re not missing out on much here,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose as he poked at the wilting leaves of his ‘salad’. It was practically swimming in dressing.
Dean finally took his bite, continuing to stare at Cas as he chewed on the mediocre diner food. “You can still eat, though, right?” he asked through the mouthful.
Cas sighed. “Yes, but it doesn’t taste like how it does when I’m human. It’s all at once too much and not enough. There are too many flavours but every one of them is bland. I can tell when something is sweet or sour or salty or burnt but I can’t taste those things.”
“Like feeling a painting without being able to see it,” Dean said.
Cas blinked in response. “That’s...somehow accurate, yes. Except, in reverse, I suppose. I’m seeing everything that is the food without feeling it. And isn’t that the point? If I don’t need it to sustain me and I can’t get any pleasure from the taste, there’s no need to indulge.”
“But you still miss it,” Dean clarified.
“Terribly.”
Dean was frowning in that way that meant he was trying to solve something. So much so that he began to zone out of the conversation altogether.
“Anything in particular?” Sam asked.
Cas shook his head, looking forlornly at their plates. “Not really. I didn’t have enough time to get a true sense of my own tastes. I suppose I shouldn’t complain but... I just can’t seem to shake the fact that my last meal was dry toast and some unripened fruit.”
“That’s the worst fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Dean said, dropping the remains of his burger on the wrapper, as if Cas’s statement had somehow spoiled it.
“It didn’t taste all that wonderful, either,” Cas said with a wry smile.
“Couldn’t you...” Sam started but then hesitated, clearly second-guessing his suggestion. But at Cas’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “Couldn’t you take out your grace and then eat something?”
“Sam!” Dean said, incensed on Cas’s behalf. Yeah, that’s all it was. Not the terrifying idea of Cas being so vulnerable again after they just got him back in full working order.
But Cas didn’t seem offended by the suggestion. “I could. And I have considered the possibility. But I don’t think I could justify it for something so selfish. It’s an indulgence and it’s unnecessary.”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” Dean said. At Cas’s surprised expression, he continued, “If anyone deserves to be fucking selfish for once, it’s you, Cas.”
“He’s right,” Sam added, pushing his plate away, as if he couldn’t stand having it in his presence for a minute longer. “No need to punish yourself.”
“I’m not-“ Cas cut himself off. They all knew that the following statement was going to be a lie. Even if it was unintentional, he couldn’t deny that he was depriving himself this one thing because he didn’t think he deserved it. Old habits die hard.
Slamming a hand on the table, startling some of the diner’s other patrons, Dean said, “Pick a day.”
“What?” Cas asked, frowning.
“Pick a day and we’ll do this thing. Give you a proper last meal. Something to tide you over. Right?” he said, turning his attention to Sam.
“Sure,” Sam agreed, knowing that he was going to have very little input in this endeavour.
“You don’t need to-“
“Cas,” Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Pick. A day.”
“Sunday,” Cas said, the word coming out on a breath. It felt blasphemous. Choosing God’s day for such extravagance. But there was a thrill to it too.
“You got it, sunshine,” Dean said with a wink and Cas had to duck his head to hide his pleased smile.
As soon as they were back in the bunker, Cas wished he’d chosen a different day. Like tomorrow. The five day wait was agony. For a being who had lived for millenia, a single day should barely register. But humanity had done a number on him and he felt things much more acutely than ever before.
He kept himself busy as much as he could; cataloguing various artefacts in the bunker, reading, binging anything but the Food Network. Dean was noticeably absent at all hours and the one time Cas had headed to the kitchen, he was swiftly intercepted by Sam who ushered him away. In the distance, Cas was sure he could hear Dean cursing out an appliance.
In the meantime, Cas contemplated what to do about his grace. Waiting until Sunday morning to remove it could prove a problem. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation and he knew to expect the nausea and the shakes when all the human sensations bombarded him along with the sudden disappearance of his wings and his powers. It took some adjustment. He didn’t really want to start the day weak as a baby deer.
But then if he chose to remove it Saturday night, he also knew that sleep wouldn’t be forthcoming and he would potentially face the morning in a foul mood because of it. It appeared to be a no-win situation.
In the end, he settled for removing it at midnight. A small nick to the throat with his blade and the grace slithered into a vial that he placed inside his suit pocket. Nausea promptly hit him like a mallet to the stomach, and he curled in on himself, dragging the comforter over himself as he shivered on the bed. He hated feeling so pathetic. But he just tried to focus on the meal that he would be having with the Winchesters and believed that it would be worth it.
After a couple of hours, he headed for the showers.
He couldn’t warm up, the chill felt like it went all the way down to the marrow.
The moment the water hit him, he groaned in bliss. The pressure, the heat of the water, the comfort of the steam surrounding him. It warmed him as well as eased some of the tension from his muscles.
He failed to hear the door open but did pick up on the cautious, “Cas?”
Quickly slamming the shower handle off, he peeked out to see Dean half through the door. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping water from his eyes. “Did I wake you?”
Dean hesitated, frozen in place as he stared back. Rebooting his brain, he visibly started, “Uh, no! No. I was still up. Just heard the shower and wondered what was up. You OK?”
“I am feeling much better, thank you. I was anticipating the nausea and the tiredness but the chill was more severe than I expected.”
It took a moment for Dean to catch up with what Cas was referring to. His eyes widened. “You took it out, already?” he asked, moving further into the shower room before catching hold of himself and hesitating.
“Yes. I didn’t want to go through this first thing in the morning,” he said, grabbing for the towel he had hung up by the cubicle and wrapping it around his waist. Stepping out of the shower, he carefully made his way towards Dean, preparing to head back to his room.
Dean seemed rooted to the spot. He glanced down briefly, eyes landing on Cas’s tattoo before shooting back up again, panicked. Cas just frowned, confused. “Uhhhh, right. Well. Anything I can do to help you get...warmer?” Dean asked and from the grimace on his face, that wasn’t the way he had intended to end the sentence. It was a valid question, however.
“If you have any spare blankets, I wouldn’t turn them down,” Cas said and before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Dean was uttering a ‘got it’ and all but fleeing down the hall.
About 15 minutes after Cas had made it back to his room, Dean stumbled in with an armful of not only blankets but hoodies and sweatshirts, dumping them half on the bed and half on Cas. “Just...use whatever,” he said, pointing at the offering before hightailing it back out of the room before Cas could even thank him.
He settled on a few blankets and a fleecy hoodie that felt very nice against his freshly cleansed skin. Bundling himself up under the covers, he managed a precious few hours sleep before his stomach woke him at 4:30am, grumbling irritably.
“Hush,” Cas muttered, brain foggy. “You’ll be attended to soon.”
He drifted for another couple of hours before having to acknowledge that he wouldn’t get back to sleep again and grabbed a book to pass the time. When did Dean usually eat breakfast? He was an early riser, although not as early as Sam. Maybe he would have to go find himself a snack to bide his time...
Cas was saved from having to scrounge when there was a knock on his door just after 8am. “Cas?”
It was Sam. Cas untangled himself from the myriad of sheets and blankets and stumbled to the door. “Good morning, Sam.”
“Hey, hi,” Sam said with a small smile. “You feeling OK?”
Assuming that Dean had informed his brother on the early morning shower, Cas gave him a reassuring smile. “I am, thank you. It was certainly easier than last time. Still not something I want to experience all too often, though.”
“I bet,” Sam said, nodding in understanding. “Guess we just gotta make this all worth your while, huh?”
“No pressure,” Cas replied with a teasing smile which had Sam laughing, caught off-guard.
“Well, breakfast is served, if you’re ready,” he said, gesturing towards the table where he’d joined them for many a meal without ever actually ‘joining’ them.
“More than,” Cas said and as if to punctuate it, his stomach grumbled loudly once more. Sam laughed outright, slapping him on the back and ushering him ahead.
As he approached, the smells made his mouth water and his stomach ache with want. There were plates upon plates of breakfast food already laid out in front of him and as he stood there gaping at the spread, Dean appeared from the kitchen brandishing two more.
He froze, as if he’d been caught in the act, but quickly got moving again as he set the plates down and jerkily gestured for Cas to take a seat.
“So, we got a bit of everything going on here,” Dean said, stating the obvious.
“This is...overwhelming,” Cas said, staring at all the food, having no idea where to begin.
Dean’s face fell, hand coming up to run through his hair as he took in the smorgasbord on the table. “Shit. Maybe you’re right-“
“It’s wonderful!” Cas was quick to add, in no way wanting him to feel bad about this extraordinary gesture. “I just...don’t really know where to start.”
“Alright, well, you gotta start with the meat and eggs. Bacon, sausage, I got an omelette here with some ham and mushroom,” he said, passing a plate over with a golden yellow omelette that looked delicious. Cas scooped it onto his plate, along with several strips of bacon and a couple of sausages. “There’s scrambled eggs there. I can cook you up some fried eggs, couldn’t do those in advance. You want some?”
The declination was on the tip of his tongue, just out of courtesy but then he realised...he did want some. And, looking closely at Dean, there was no inclination of it being merely a polite offer. He would be happy to make him fried eggs.
“I would like that, Dean.”
Dean grinned back at him. “Awesome. Sunny side up? Over easy?”
“I don’t know what either of those mean. But I would like them runny and yellow.”
“Sunny side up, on the way,” Dean said, giving him finger guns as he hurried back into the kitchen.
Cas stared at his plate, overwhelmed. With food and with gratitude. Sam reaching for his own plate knocked him out of his reverie and he grabbed a fork to tuck in. He started with the omelette, moaning obscenely at the very first mouthful. It was soft and fluffy and peppery and perfect.
Sam chuckled at the sound and Cas didn’t even have the extra brain function to look embarrassed. “Yeah, he always made a mean omelette,” he said, scooping some scrambled eggs onto his plate and a couple of strips of bacon.
Moments later, Dean reappeared, frying pan in hand as he slid the fried eggs directly onto Cas’s plate.
“Good?” he asked, gesturing at the partially eaten omelette.
“It’s exquisite,” Cas said, tone deadly serious.
Dean’s grin was proud and pleased and he dumped the frying pan on the table before joining them, grabbing a plate of his own.
Cas couldn’t hold back on the delighted moans with every mouthful he took. The bacon was perfectly crispy, the salt bursting on his tongue and the tenderness of the sausages was divine. Even the toast – buttered, this time – was perfectly toasted and fresh. He dipped it in the yolk of his perfectly runny fried egg and groaned at the combination of flavours.
As he turned to tell Dean of this new discovery, it was to find him gaping back at him, food forgotten on his own plate. Cas stopped chewing, a flush heating his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said, through the mouthful.
Dean snapped out of his daze, clamping his mouth shut. “Just glad you’re enjoying it,” he muttered.
“Very much so. I am keen to try your pancakes.”
They had been the first thing to catch Cas’s eye when he had first arrived and he’d been deliberately pacing himself so he had room for plenty of them.
Perking up, Dean grabbed the plate with a large stack that Cas hoped they’d be sharing between them, and put it between them. “Help yourself,” he said. Leaning over the table, he grabbed a couple of pots, then a couple more, putting them alongside. “There’s maple syrup – a classic – and fruit, whipped cream and Nutella. Oh, and butter. I guess. Take your pick.”
Cas’s pick was all of them.
Impaling the top pancake with a fork, he dropped it onto his own plate and then poured a small amount of syrup alongside rather than on top of, dunking a bite of pancake into it. Another moan. “Oh. Yes, that’s good.” The fruit also got a thumbs up. Whipped cream was fine but not a favourite and the Nutella was good but too overpowering for the pancake.
He eyed the butter, curious how the salt would combine with the sweetness of the pancake. Spreading a small amount on his knife, he placed it on the last remaining piece of his third pancake and ate it.
He wrinkled his nose at the contrasting flavours.
“Oh thank god,” Dean said, letting out a breath. “Butter on pancakes is a sin, I don’t think we could have recovered from that.”
“Mm, well, I’m glad we avoided that then,” Cas said with a small smile. Letting out a satisfied breath, he leaned back in his chair, surveying the many empty plates. “I think this was a success. Thank you, Dean.”
“No problem, man. But we ain’t done yet.” At Cas’s confused glance, he said, “Lunch and dinner?”
“You have planned all the meals?”
Dean began to look unsure of himself. “Well, I mean, yeah. Had to make the most of it, right?” Before Cas could respond, Dean stood up and began grabbing the dirty plates. “Anyway, gotta get all this out the way. You go...do whatever.”
Recognising the dismissal for what it was, Cas left the table with Sam in tow, feeling oddly bereft. At a nudge from Sam, he turned to look at the younger Winchester. “Just let him do his thing. He’s kind of been obsessing about it for days so just leave him to it.”
“Of course,” Cas said, trying not to feel guilty for the amount of time Dean had spent on this trivial endeavour.
“I’m gonna go for a run, try and work some of that off. You wanna join?”
Cas knew enough about the human body to know that his would probably be grateful for the help digesting so he easily agreed.
Upon his return to the bunker, he holed himself up in the library until he was summoned once more, this time by Dean himself.
“Lunch is up.” As Cas went to get out of his chair, Dean held up a hand, keeping him seated. It was then that Cas noticed that Dean was hiding something behind his back. “I brought it. I know I went kinda overboard with breakfast and spoiler alert, I’m gonna go overboard with dinner too, so I figured it would be better to go small time with lunch.”
From behind his back, Dean brought forth a plate with a toasted sandwich on it.
“It’s a grilled cheese. Just plain ol’ grilled cheese. But it’s got cheese on the top too. And I grilled it because that sandwich press thing Sam bought is a piece of shit.”
Cas took the offering, setting it on his lap. The sandwich had been cut into triangles and, grabbing one, he took a bite, going cross-eyed as he watched the cheese ooze out from the bite in messy strings.
It was delicious.
Bread perfectly toasted, cheese perfectly melted. There was a slight tang to it that made Cas wonder if maybe he had added some sauce or if that was just the cheese itself. Ironically, if he still had his grace, he would have been able to answer that easily. But not knowing meant that he could ask.
“It has another flavour mixed in there. Something tangy.”
“Oh! Yeah, I threw in some Worcester sauce too. Good eye. Uh, taste buds.”
Cas grinned at Dean, proud of himself and Dean gave him a shaky smile back. “It’s very good, Dean. Thank you.”
“Yup, awesome,” he said, swinging his arms back and forth as he rocked on his heels, looking like he wanted to bail. “OK, well, no snacking between now and dinner. You ruin your appetite and I’m gonna be real mad.”
“Yes, Dean,” Cas said with an amused smile. Dean just nodded before spinning around on his heel and disappearing once more. Cas finished his grilled cheese in silence, save for the occasional pleased moan that echoed between the library’s walls.
Cas found himself so absorbed in an ancient tome that dinner rolled around much quicker than he expected.
Once more, he found himself called to the table by Sam. Upon their approach, Sam exclaimed, “Jesus, Dean,” as he caught side of the veritable buffet before them.
Cas’s eyes immediately zoned in on the burgers but there were also bowls of fries, a giant bowl of salad, a tray bake of lasagne and a pot that looked like a stew or casserole of some kind.
“You know there’s only three of us, right?” Sam continued, eyes bugging out of his head.
“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said, without any heat. He was still wearing an apron. It was very endearing. “He’s gotta learn what he likes, somehow. What if I picked just one thing and he hated it? Just cos Jimmy liked burgers, doesn’t mean Cas does. Right?” he asked, turning to Cas.
“I would assume so. But I must say nothing here looks remotely unappealing. How did you manage to do all of this yourself?”
Dean shrugged, as if it was nothing, which usually meant it was a pain in the ass. “Wasn’t that hard. Burgers on the grill, lasagne in the oven, casserole in the slow cooker-“
“We have a slow cooker?” Sam asked.
“We do now,” Dean said, narrowing his eyes at Sam as if challenging him to make a point about it. Sam didn’t but it looked like it took some effort.
“What should I start with?” Cas asked.
“Whatever you want, man.”
Cas zeroed in on the burgers. There was a variety; he grabbed the one with added bacon and cheese. It was an effort trying to get the whole thing into his mouth but he managed it and wriggled in delight at the burst of different flavours. The delicately seasoned and tender beef, the crisp saltiness of the bacon and the tang of the cheese. Then an added crunch of lettuce and a burst of tomato. Heaven.
“I would have been quite happy eating several of these,” Cas confirmed.
Dean scoffed, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Well, I can make you another one if you don’t wanna try any-“
“Shut up, Dean, of course I want to try everything else,” Cas said, shutting him down easily. Dean flushed, biting back a pleased smile.
“Well, alright then.”
Sam demolished his plate of the casserole alongside a decent helping of the salad. Cas was fascinated with the makeup of the lasagne and how Dean had managed to keep it so uniform. Everything was pure delight for his taste buds and he made sure to tell Dean every little detail he could discern, every little sensation he felt. He seemed to get a kick out of it.
Once they had finally eaten their fill, Dean raised a finger, standing from his chair. “One more thing,” he said, before darting towards the kitchen.
“I’ll give you three guesses,” Sam whispered, rolling his eyes.
Before Cas could even think to start guessing, Dean returned, hands covered by oven mitts and a steaming pie in his hands.
“Warm apple pie!” Dean said, placing it on the table. He cut three (very generous, too generous) portions, placing them on each of their plates.
At the first mouthful, Cas’s toes curled and a pleasant shiver ran through him at the tartness of the apples, the butteriness of the crust and the kick of the cinnamon. “Oh,” was all he managed to verbalise.
“Good?” Dean asked, his tone confident but his face hopeful.
“I firmly believe there is no better apple pie than this,” Cas said in all seriousness. Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. Cas knew he would be unable to convince him that he meant it.
Sam begged off early, slice of pie half-eaten, and headed for the gym. Dean shook his head in disappointment, “What’s the point in being that tall if you don’t eat your height in food?”
Cas, who was finishing his last bite of pie, groaned in satisfaction as he dropped the fork onto the plate, smoothing a hand down over his stomach.
“Stuffed?”
“Exceedingly,” Cas said, no regret in his voice.
“Better than dried toast and crappy fruit?”
Cas’s gaze softened as he turned to look at Dean. “Incomparable.”
Dean chuckled to himself, polishing off the last of his pie, patting his own stomach. “Glad I could right a wrong,” he said, like this was just some minor good deed. Like he hadn’t spent days working tirelessly to give him this extraordinary gift. Cas frowned at how dismissive he seemed to want to be.
“It has been more than just righting a wrong, Dean. I am grateful not just for the food but for you encouraging me to do something for myself. I did need this. Even without my grace, this is the most whole I have felt in a long time.”
Dean stared at Cas, his whole body rigid, breath caught in his throat. “Good,” he managed to say. “Uh. Was there...anything else you wanted to taste? Before, you know, you power back up?”
The answer came to him; immediate and unbidden. You. Cas blinked, unsure what to do with that thought. But blinking didn’t shift it and it was suddenly all he could think about. What would the pie taste like on Dean’s lips? What would Dean’s mouth taste like? His skin? Would Dean be able to taste him? What would he taste like to Dean?
“Cas?”
Cas twitched, startled out of his thoughts. “I-“ Licking his lips, Cas managed to shake his thoughts into order. “No, I think I’m more than satisfied for now. But...”
“But?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised.
“Well, perhaps we could do this again sometime. I think there are some other things I’d like to try. One day.”
Dean tilted his head in a very Cas-like move, as if trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying. But instead of calling him out on it, he just asked, “Worth the hassle?”
Cas didn’t even have to think about it. “Oh yes. Without question.”
Dean’s lips quirked up in a smile. He grabbed his bottle of beer and raised it, prompting Cas to grab his own. “To the next last meal,” he said as they clinked bottles.
Cas couldn’t wait.