FIC: Kiss The Cook
And here's another addition to the Let Them Seek Peace 'verse. Apparently, I just don't want to let this 'verse go :oP
Title: Kiss The Cook
Rating: G
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 933
Summary: Dean finds Castiel in the cooking aisle at Target. Takes place after Let Them Seek Peace and Some Assembly Required.
Author's Note: Huge thanks go to awesomepants87 for being such a cool beta ;o)
Kiss The Cook
Target is surprisingly calm for a Saturday afternoon, but there are just enough people to make finding Castiel difficult. Dean had stopped to look at the TVs on their way to the houseware section to pick up rods for their bedroom window so they could finally hang curtains and block out the morning light that never failed to wake them up too early. Castiel, apparently, hadn’t found the TVs as compelling as Dean had and when Dean tore his eyes from the big screen and turned around, Castiel wasn’t there. So Dean grabbed the curtain rods and headed straight for the scant book collection. That was where he usually found Castiel when he wandered off.
But Castiel isn’t in the book collection.
Dean grunts and starts strolling through the rest of the store, keeping an eye out for Castiel. But it isn’t until he finds his way back to the cooking aisle that he spots Castiel, browsing through the clothing that’s hanging at the end of an aisle full of pots and pans.
“I thought we got everything we wanted from here?” he asks as he glances down at the basket hanging securely from the crook of his elbow. He rifles through the contents, checking to make sure he has everything they’ve come out here to get. Wooden skewers for the grill, new spatula, mitts to replace the ones he accidentally burned when he’d tried making ribs last week. Hopefully they’ll be more successful with shish kabobs this weekend when Bobby comes up for dinner. Saturday dinner with Bobby has become a weekly tradition over the past month since they’ve really settled into the house, and Dean’s glad that Sam finally has the chance to join them. He just hopes he can avoid Sam’s food-critic snobbery with some improved cooking skills.
Dean nods as he mentally checks off napkins on his list of supplies to get before realizing Castiel still hasn’t responded to his question. He looks up. “Cas?”
Castiel is holding out a hanger, his head cocked at that angle he still holds it at even now that he’s fallen and learned a thing or two about humanity. He’s looking at the hanger with a face that Dean recognizes from the long nights they’d spent searching through old texts, looking for spells or lore that would help them kick Lucifer’s ass into Hell.
“What you got there?”
Castiel turns around, presents what he’s holding to Dean. “Bobby has one,” he says, matter of fact. “If we are to settle into this… domestic life,” and there, that is from him and Sam spending too much time on the phone discussing things like lore and hunts while Dean’s been busy putting the finishing touches on the paint job in the living room, “isn’t this one of the next steps?”
Dean opens his mouth to ask just what this next step is when he looks down and the words freeze on his tongue. He stares, open-mouthed, when he finally sees what has captured Castiel’s attention so completely. It’s an apron.
“Cas… um.” He stares. “What?” Because that’s about all he can come up with at the moment.
Castiel’s brow furrows, and there’s that head tilt thing again, like he can’t quite understand why Dean hasn’t caught on to the obviousness that is the apron in front of him.
“Bobby has one-”
“Bobby’s says ‘Kiss The Cook,’ Cas. And it isn’t…” He reaches his free hand out, flicks a finger at the frills on the shoulder straps. “It isn’t pink and frilly.” Because this is an apron right out of The Stepford Wives. Complete with lace and pink and the words “Queen of the Kitchen” in flowing script sprawled across the front of it.
Castiel’s brow furrows even more, if that’s possible. Then he shifts slightly, just a subtle rolling of his shoulders.
“I don’t see how that makes a difference,” Castiel says. And Dean feels like he’s in for a lecture now. “Isn’t the point of an apron to prevent clothes from becoming dirty? What do frills have to do with the function of the apron?” He glances down to the apron, tilts it toward him so he can take another look and gather in all the details again. “It would help with keeping clothes clean while cooking. Grease has proven more difficult than blood to remove from clothes, Dean.”
A woman passing by them glances up from her cart, eyes wide, and Dean smiles at her, nods, and thinks that the woman is pushing her cart away too damn slowly.
“Look, Cas.” Dean turns back to Castiel once the woman is far enough away. Castiel is frowning now. “Pick another one if you’re so hell-bent on getting one. Okay?”
Castiel’s eyebrows rise at that, and Dean recognizes the genuine shock that makes Castiel’s eyes a little bit wider than usual, makes his mouth open just a bit.
“But…”
“Cas?”
“It’s for you,” Castiel intones, glancing down at the apron. “You’re a lot messier at cooking than I am, Dean.”
Silence greets that statement. Dean’s hand drops to his side and his mouth falls open, but Castiel’s on a roll for how many times he can render Dean speechless today.
Instead, Dean turns on his heel and walks down the aisle towards the registers. Castiel steps forward to follow after him before pausing, glancing down at the apron still clutched in his hand. He hesitates for a moment and looks up to watch Dean walk away, a small smile curving his lips before he replaces the hanger on the hook and follows quickly after Dean.
Title: Kiss The Cook
Rating: G
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 933
Summary: Dean finds Castiel in the cooking aisle at Target. Takes place after Let Them Seek Peace and Some Assembly Required.
Author's Note: Huge thanks go to awesomepants87 for being such a cool beta ;o)
Kiss The Cook
Target is surprisingly calm for a Saturday afternoon, but there are just enough people to make finding Castiel difficult. Dean had stopped to look at the TVs on their way to the houseware section to pick up rods for their bedroom window so they could finally hang curtains and block out the morning light that never failed to wake them up too early. Castiel, apparently, hadn’t found the TVs as compelling as Dean had and when Dean tore his eyes from the big screen and turned around, Castiel wasn’t there. So Dean grabbed the curtain rods and headed straight for the scant book collection. That was where he usually found Castiel when he wandered off.
But Castiel isn’t in the book collection.
Dean grunts and starts strolling through the rest of the store, keeping an eye out for Castiel. But it isn’t until he finds his way back to the cooking aisle that he spots Castiel, browsing through the clothing that’s hanging at the end of an aisle full of pots and pans.
“I thought we got everything we wanted from here?” he asks as he glances down at the basket hanging securely from the crook of his elbow. He rifles through the contents, checking to make sure he has everything they’ve come out here to get. Wooden skewers for the grill, new spatula, mitts to replace the ones he accidentally burned when he’d tried making ribs last week. Hopefully they’ll be more successful with shish kabobs this weekend when Bobby comes up for dinner. Saturday dinner with Bobby has become a weekly tradition over the past month since they’ve really settled into the house, and Dean’s glad that Sam finally has the chance to join them. He just hopes he can avoid Sam’s food-critic snobbery with some improved cooking skills.
Dean nods as he mentally checks off napkins on his list of supplies to get before realizing Castiel still hasn’t responded to his question. He looks up. “Cas?”
Castiel is holding out a hanger, his head cocked at that angle he still holds it at even now that he’s fallen and learned a thing or two about humanity. He’s looking at the hanger with a face that Dean recognizes from the long nights they’d spent searching through old texts, looking for spells or lore that would help them kick Lucifer’s ass into Hell.
“What you got there?”
Castiel turns around, presents what he’s holding to Dean. “Bobby has one,” he says, matter of fact. “If we are to settle into this… domestic life,” and there, that is from him and Sam spending too much time on the phone discussing things like lore and hunts while Dean’s been busy putting the finishing touches on the paint job in the living room, “isn’t this one of the next steps?”
Dean opens his mouth to ask just what this next step is when he looks down and the words freeze on his tongue. He stares, open-mouthed, when he finally sees what has captured Castiel’s attention so completely. It’s an apron.
“Cas… um.” He stares. “What?” Because that’s about all he can come up with at the moment.
Castiel’s brow furrows, and there’s that head tilt thing again, like he can’t quite understand why Dean hasn’t caught on to the obviousness that is the apron in front of him.
“Bobby has one-”
“Bobby’s says ‘Kiss The Cook,’ Cas. And it isn’t…” He reaches his free hand out, flicks a finger at the frills on the shoulder straps. “It isn’t pink and frilly.” Because this is an apron right out of The Stepford Wives. Complete with lace and pink and the words “Queen of the Kitchen” in flowing script sprawled across the front of it.
Castiel’s brow furrows even more, if that’s possible. Then he shifts slightly, just a subtle rolling of his shoulders.
“I don’t see how that makes a difference,” Castiel says. And Dean feels like he’s in for a lecture now. “Isn’t the point of an apron to prevent clothes from becoming dirty? What do frills have to do with the function of the apron?” He glances down to the apron, tilts it toward him so he can take another look and gather in all the details again. “It would help with keeping clothes clean while cooking. Grease has proven more difficult than blood to remove from clothes, Dean.”
A woman passing by them glances up from her cart, eyes wide, and Dean smiles at her, nods, and thinks that the woman is pushing her cart away too damn slowly.
“Look, Cas.” Dean turns back to Castiel once the woman is far enough away. Castiel is frowning now. “Pick another one if you’re so hell-bent on getting one. Okay?”
Castiel’s eyebrows rise at that, and Dean recognizes the genuine shock that makes Castiel’s eyes a little bit wider than usual, makes his mouth open just a bit.
“But…”
“Cas?”
“It’s for you,” Castiel intones, glancing down at the apron. “You’re a lot messier at cooking than I am, Dean.”
Silence greets that statement. Dean’s hand drops to his side and his mouth falls open, but Castiel’s on a roll for how many times he can render Dean speechless today.
Instead, Dean turns on his heel and walks down the aisle towards the registers. Castiel steps forward to follow after him before pausing, glancing down at the apron still clutched in his hand. He hesitates for a moment and looks up to watch Dean walk away, a small smile curving his lips before he replaces the hanger on the hook and follows quickly after Dean.