messenger: looking down, lips pressed, melancholy (❝ and i'm the worst mistake ❞)
castiel【 be a good little angel 】 ([personal profile] messenger) wrote in [community profile] etrayalogs2024-11-27 06:53 pm

( closed ) every day's an apple pie

WHO: Castiel ([personal profile] messenger) & Dean Winchester ([personal profile] venatoris)
WHEN: Shortly after the mingle
WHERE: In the bunker
WHAT: Castiel bakes a pie. Sort of.
NOTES\WARNINGS: n/a

[ castiel cuts a beeline to the liquor store immediately after briefly rubbing elbows with socialization. it doesn't suit him, that much is obvious. having his faith questioned was the final straw that saw him making generous use of the newly installed liquore store. he's tipsy-on-the-border-of-drunk by the time he diverts to the kwik stop to grab the necessary ingredients for dean's pie.

because god has some mercy on dean winchester, castiel had researched and planned the whole thing out several days in advance of becoming drunk. after reading through a small collection of recipe books, he'd decided his first foray into baking should be simplified, which was further encouraged by the presence of pre-made pie crusts and canned and frozen pie filling. harold had suggested he practice before presenting dean with the end result, but he had no idea how long it would take before he perfected his from-scratch skills, and he didn't want to wait. partly, because it would be a useless platitude if he waited until weeks after the race. partly, because he's drunk.

he picks out two cans of cherry filling, a few spices, a package that contains two premade crusts, and a roll of pre-made pie dough from the freezer. it's late. well past midnight, which means dean will have already eaten dinner and gone to bed. he also picks up a carton of milk, orange juice, a handful of candybars, a six pack of beer, and a frozen pizza. he may or may not knock over a corner display, but he leaves before the helper bots notice.

the groceries are shoved unceremoniously into the fridge/freezer.

and then there's the pie. it's ridiculous to feel intimidated by a confection, but here he is, hesitating. all his ingredients laid out before him, and suddenly it seems like the most difficult thing in the world.

it isn't. the most difficult step of making the pie is weaving the lattice out of pre-made pie crust over the top, but by the time he's reached this final step, his nerves have worn off.

and when the pie comes out of the oven, it looks... mostly okay. there's shiny, dark red cherry filling bubbling up from between the lattice strips, and the edges of the crust are a little burnt. he takes it from the oven barehanded and sets it on top of the stove to cool.

castiel turns away from the oven to lean his elbows on the island. little bits of this and that have been turning up around the bunker since dean invited him in. castiel tells himself it's scientific interest, little shells and feathers and small round stones, all checked over thoroughly to assess their origin. but the truth is, it brings him some comfort. the bits and scraps lying on the island aren't that, though. these are specifically for dean: a shed jackalope antler, a "bigfoot" incisor, and a handful of cowslips — fairy cups. ]

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