castiel【 be a good little angel 】 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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etrayalogs2024-11-27 06:53 pm
messenger) wrote in etrayalogs2024-11-27 06:53 pm
Entry tags:
( closed ) every day's an apple pie
WHO: Castiel (messenger) & Dean Winchester (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. ]
messenger) & Dean Winchester (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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The half hug doesn't last too long, Dean too awkward to linger, and he drops his hand, fingertips tracing over Cas' shoulder as it falls. ]
Thank you, Cas. Can I have some now?
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[ dean's warmth lingers against his body. dean recovered from the chilling curse quickly, but sometimes castiel still finds himself thinking about that all hallow's eve. and the way he woke the next day with a damp patch of drool sticking his cheek to dean's pillow.
he moves aside to retrieve a plate and eating utensils from the bunker cabinets, and sets them out on the counter. ]
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[ He's reaching for a knife to start slicing - it's warm and it's going to be messy, oozing all over the place, but that's the best time to eat it, in his opinion. Nice and warm and gooey. With ice cream, but he's not being picky because this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him.
And so he's gonna cram his mouth full of pie and make a very happy noise, a pleased groan around his too full bite. ]
This is great. [ Crispy crust and all. ]
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castiel awkwardly scoops the still warm pie with a fork while watching dean eat. his distraction doesn't do him any favors, and only half of his pie filling actually finds its way onto his plate. ]
It is?
[ finally, he takes a bite.
and it is good. the cherry is tart and sweet in a way that makes his mouth water, more than just separate pieces of constituent parts. but nothing, nothing is as gratifying as the expression of pleasure on dean's face while he eats. castiel finds himself smiling too, lips tugged weakly at the corners, his body unconsciously mirroring. a heat radiates from the core of his chest like he's taken an held a large inhale of breath. ]
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[ He has to pause to swallow, gulping down his bite and flashing Cas an easy grin. It's obvious Dean is pleased, and he himself is all warm and tingly inside, relishing his pie because it was made with, well. Love. Or something.
Stuff like that always tastes better. Cas could've blackened it and Dean would've enjoyed it, because it's the thought that counts. ]
It's awesome.
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Thank you, Dean.
I, um. I brought you some other things, too.
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...You did?
[ 'why' is on the tip of his tongue, but that seems like a rude thing to say. Dean's not exactly Mr. Manners, but he's got some. ]
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he puts his plate down and moves back over to the island, around to the other side so he can push his offerings forward. the jackalope antler, "bigfoot" fang, and cowslips. all things related to their cryptid hunt, obviously. castiel doesn't know why he thought to collect these items in particular, only that he did. ]
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[ He jams another bite in before setting his plate down to inspect what Cas has brought him. He's mildly confused by it, but touched, heart thumping against his ribcage, a butterfly caged in his chest. ]
Did you find this stuff when we were getting those pictures?
[ The little flowers are pretty; Dean likes flowers, doesn't tell people that. It's weakness, to like such frilly, feminine things. He does all the same, though. ]
These are cute.
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[ he hadn't been thinking of it at the time, only later. but it was easy enough to go back to the places they'd been. he picks one up, inspecting the long stem and sweet yellow flowers. they'll need to be put in water or pressed to preserve them, though castiel hasn't thought of that yet. ]
They're cowslips. Fairy cups. I didn't think it prudent to take anything from the Fae, so...
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[ He has far too much experience with fairies and he doesn't wanna repeat that, thanks. ]
I like them. They're pretty. [ Pressing, that's what he's gonna do. After he sticks them in a cup of water - cup being a whiskey tumbler because that's what's on hand. But he wants to save them. ]
This is all really thoughtful of you, dude. What brought all this on? You're spoilin' me.
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[ he turns a little sheepish. but it's true. harold is the one who gave him the advice, but he didn't have to follow it. he could have done these things for someone else or not at all. but his first thought was to do them for dean, because something in him liked that idea. because he wanted to see the expression on dean's face, and to hear these nice things he's saying now.
because he wanted to make dean feel good.
because he wanted to be able to do something, for someone.
castiel scuffs his shoe against the floor and looks down. ]
I would prefer to be of some use, but...
[ he couldn't help dean win the race. ]
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This is cool.
[ Looking up at Cas and meeting his eyes, his lips quirk, expression turning wry. ]
You don't have to be useful to be a good egg, Cas. I'm just glad you're here. [ And all of this does cheer him; he'd been irritated they lost the race, but there's nothing to be done about it but sulk. Which he'd been doing up until this point. His bad mood has evaporated, and in it's place settles something warm and undefinable, a thing unknown burrowed in his chest. ]
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[ good or otherwise. but his voice is tempered by his smile, and he feels a little bit better about his relative uselessness since arriving here in etraya. for the last several months, all things considered. it's not as though he's been able to do anything for sam and dean. his search for god came to nothing at all, and he's not even pure enough to kill the whore of babylon.
but dean did. dean came through.
and he's certain, even though he hasn't been told, that dean is the reason they won.
castiel inclines his head. ]
I'm... sorry that the others are gone.
[ perhaps this isn't just about the race.
castiel can't imagine what it would have been like, living with two other versions of himself, but he knows that dean would have been happy surrounded by a bunker full of his friends. ]
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Not that that's a thing Cas knows yet, but ultimately they are all flawed in some ways, a lot of ways. Dean, at the time, had thought his usefulness had also run out, and that saying 'yes' to Michael was the only solution to the problem. Maybe it was cowardice, maybe it was some grand gesture to save the word and ensure salvation and paradise for angels and humans (hopefully) alike. Besides, who wouldn't want paradise?
At any rate, that's years past for Dean, and this time it's Dean who's unleashed a devil.
...nevermind it was low-key Sam's fault for pushing the spell, a thing he never should've done. Dean deserved insanity on a faraway planet, deserved to be lost to the sands of time in a frenzy that could never be soothed. In the end Sam deserved death too; the world would have been better off without the both of them (as evidenced by the appearance of the Darkness). But the Mark has a mind of its own, self preservation kicking in and Dean found himself swinging that scythe at the horseman himself, killing Death with his own blade. The irony isn't lost on Dean, wasn't even as it happened, Death crumbling into dust at their feet.
He drags himself out of memories and regret and self-hatred and blame, focuses on the angel in front of him and smiles. ]
It's not your fault. We got each other, and we got the kid. [ And they're all fucked up and maybe that's how Dean likes it. Normalcy doesn't suit him, he'd tried. ]
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[ it isn't his fault. anyway, it's not directly his fault. but he does feel there was some kind of unspoken competition that he won. a choice between pruned timelines and world representatives. is he really the best choice to stand trial? no. he can't be. his counterpart from the doomed timeline was probably an even worse choice, but what of that world? it was a branch all its own, even if it was an unhealthy branch. it's not like his is doing any better or any less deserved of pruning. and the castiel who came from dean's time, or near to it... was that just preventing redundancy?
he doesn't feel like he should be here.
castiel turns his attention back to the pie. ]
I'm not sure how to preserve this, so you should eat as much as you like.
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Hard to say, Dean sure doesn't know. ]
We can stick leftovers in the fridge, should last a few days.
[ But he's not putting it in there yet, not before he's going to help himself to another piece. ]
Won't last that long though, trust me.
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I'm going to learn how to make the rest next time. The um. The dough and the filling.
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[ That'll be an endeavor, but not too difficult. ]
If you get hung up, I can probably help. I've made a few pies in my life.
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[ he's not sure if he should be accepting help, but he likes the thought regardless. though, it's difficult for him to say why. baking really should strike him as a rather boring undertaking.
but it doesn't. ]
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[ Dean sure is, cutting himself another piece and shoving a bite into his mouth. Sharing is caring and all that. ]
'S really good.
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but as his gaze lingers, he decides: not yet. he doesn't want to talk about that yet. ]
Harold offered to test the results.
[ after struggling for several moments to pick up the crust with his fork, castiel deposits the fork in the sink and picks the rest of the scraps off his plate using his fingers. he sucks them free from crumbs as he sets the now empty plate in the sink.
there aren't many dirty dishes. it's just the three of them here. and castiel doesn't always need to sleep, and doesn't always remember to stay the night.
except, more and more often he circles back to the bunker, gravitating around dean like a body in orbit. when he arrived he felt he had a duty to peel back as much of etraya as possible, but there's nothing salacious to find under the bitter, white pith. lingering too long outside only serves to remind him.
so, here he is. baking pies. bringing dean flowers and bones. like some kind of absurd human mating ritual. ]
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Well, Harold can fuck off. This is mine.
[ Simple as that, because the more Cas says this guys name the more annoyed he is in the back of his head, and there's something there niggling that he can't really pinpoint just yet.
He moves forward to do the same, set his plate in the sink and rinse his hands, not bothering with soap because he's a heathen. ]
And it was good. So thanks again. For everything.
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You're welcome, Dean.
[ a further softness tenders his voice. he's relieved, he realizes. he thought dean might not like it. ]
What are your... plans for today?
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Not sure yet. Got a lot of time on my hands these days. Was thinking maybe a drive.
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