[FIC] Inventing the Universe
Author: phaelsafe
Rating: PG (innuendos at the end?)
Genre and/or Pairing: Destiel, minor Dean/pie, End!verse, fluff
Spoilers: n/a
Warnings: very minor for 5.04
Word Count: ~1350
Summary: Dean sends several members to find a holiday bird for Thanksgiving at Camp Chitaqua.
A/N: I stole my own spn-shebang idea in order to write this for ladyjaganshi who wanted some End!verse fluff; uh, if you expect angst in End!verse fic, you won't find it here.
It's become increasingly more difficult to find them these days -- Dean sometimes wonders of the croats are eating the goofy birds -- but he insists every year that the survivors at the camp celebrate Thanksgiving with a turkey dinner. It's the only holiday they celebrate since it's not really something started to honor any deities (especially the one responsible for the mess humanity is in now.) And besides, giving thanks for what little they do have with a party boosts morale.
"I got one!" announces Risa excitedly as the small hunting party returns. With some difficulty, she hoists the large bird up by it's legs for inspection. Dean occasionally wonders if they should continue to waste the ammunition on something as mundane as a holiday turkey but seeing the excitement on the faces gathered around, he decides they all need this.
During a raid, they managed to gather quite a few types of seeds which they added to their stockpile. Apparently, Chuck has one hell of a green thumb so at least they have a get all the fixings that go along with the meal.
Laughter breaks Dean away from his thoughts and he looks back up. Standing off to the side holding a heavy-looking bag full of... Dean can't even begin to guess what, Cas smiles gently at the group that so rarely has the chance to be cheerful.
Dean takes note of the angel's (Cas may be mostly human now, but Dean refuses to think of him as such) reserved behavior, he makes an attempt to catch Castiel's gaze.
Dean can tell the moment Cas realizes he's being watched when the slight upward turn of his lips stretches into a full blown, teeth-baring grin that crinkles the corners of his cerulean eyes. Those eyes slide to meet Dean's with a rather impudent waggle of his dark brows.
Before he can reign it in, an amused chuckle escapes the hunter as Cas sidles up beside him. "Welcome back, Cas."
"Thank you, Fearless Leader!" Cas replies as he slips his arm into Dean's and twines their fingers together.
"I assume that everything went well?" Dean asks, giving a soft squeeze to the hand wrapped around his.
"Without a hitch." There's a jovial twinkle in Castiel's eyes.
"Awesome!" Dean thinks he should start to worry; a mischievous Cas is more than a handful. Instead, he lets his curiosity get the better of him. "So, what's in the bag then?"
"That," Cas says as he disentangles their hands to ruffle Dean's spikey hair, "is for me to know, and for you to not know!" In rare display of public affection, Cas pecks a quick kiss to Dean's lips. Then he slings the lumpy bag over his shoulder and follows the rest of the light-hearted crew toward the building they jokingly call the mess hall.
"That's supposed to end with 'for you to find out,' Cas," he calls out at the angel's departing back. Cas responds with a dismissive wave.
"Great. Now what?" he asks himself.
Dean isn't allowed to help prepare anymore, not after the incident where he tried to fry the turkey. The damn thing hadn't even been frozen. Cas luckily still had some of his powers back then and had been able to save the meal.
The weather is a little chilly, but the sun warms the brisk air as he relocates chairs to the dining area with the help of several newcomers. He gets busy setting the table with whatever plates and flatware he can find until someone rings the bell that announces that supper is on.
It's a little after three in the afternoon by the time they all sit down to a sprawling meal of cornbread dressing, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, dinner rolls, broccoli and cheese casserole, and an array of other side dishes.
There are even mini marshmallows melted on top of the sweet potatoes, though Dean has no idea where those came from.
Dean sits at one end of the table. Cas takes the seat immediately to Dean's right, but nobody sits in the other chair to the hunter's left. It's not something Dean ever voiced out loud, but he appreciates the sentiment, how understanding the people around him are. Not wanting to ruin the mood, he tries not to think too hard about his missing brother. He does occasionally scowl at the otherwise wasted portions he adds to the extra plate before he passes the food on to the next person.
After the food is utterly demolished, the tables cleared away, and the dishes washed -- Dean tries to lend a hand, but he is consistently met with "you do more than enough around here as is!" (he helps out anyway) -- Cas, whom Dean hadn't noticed was missing through all the hustling and bustling, appears wearing a blue frilly apron to steer him back to their cabin.
He is shoved playfully toward the couch as Cas disappears once more. When the angel returns with a plate in hand, he's surrounded by the smell of heated cinnamon and clove. A sudden dread fills Dean as he stares at the golden pastry crust and sweet fruit.
"Cas, did you make apple pie?" he asks, trying not to sound as alarmed as he feels. Orchards, at least the ones that haven't been burned to the ground, are a potential food source for uninfected humans. And as such, demons watch them very closely. Dean's chest clenches up as his mind runs through the various 'what could've happened' scenarios.
"Yes, now tell me how it tastes," Cas demands as he flops onto the worn chair beside Dean.
"Crusts are ridiculously hard to get right."
For several long seconds, Dean stares at the plate as though it's existence is physically painful before his eyes dart back to Cas.
"Oh, for the love of-" Cas starts. He stabs the pie with the fork and offers a bite to Dean. "We checked the place out first. No croats or demons, and I disarmed the security spells. Like I said earlier, without a hitch. Now, stop worrying!"
Taking a breath, Dean reaches up to bracket Castiel's face between his hands and forces the angel to really look at him. He gets it, he really does. Dean understands wanting to do something nice for friends and family, gets that giving is receiving and all that, but he doesn't see how endangering everyone for something as unnecessary as a freaking dessert is worth the effort. "Dude, you know how much I like apple pie, love it -- God! do I love me some good apple pie -- but Cas, I love you more."
Castiel has an all too knowing look upon his face, which has the odd effect of making Dean feel somehow irreverent and cherished at the same time. That expression quickly turns into a smirk as Cas takes advantage of the hunter's momentary bewilderment to shove the bite past his slack lips.
It's been years since Dean had any, but this falls into his 'top five most awesome pies he's ever had' list, and really, who taught Cas how to bake?
When Dean groans around the mouthful of the warm gooey apples, his lashes fluttering closed. "Totally worth it, Dean," remarks Cas.
"Did you make me pie to get laid?" Dean asks, suspicious as he chews.
"No?" responds Cas, and he must know how unconvincing his tone is. Dean just swallows and levels a cussed look at the angel. The slant of Cas' mouth quirks into a sneaky grin as he climbs into Dean's lap. He amends, "Maybe a little...."
"Maybe a little," Dean mimics and his eyes light up.
Cas just sets the plate aside and leans into the hunter to plant a kiss upon his lips.
Rating: PG (innuendos at the end?)
Genre and/or Pairing: Destiel, minor Dean/pie, End!verse, fluff
Spoilers: n/a
Warnings: very minor for 5.04
Word Count: ~1350
Summary: Dean sends several members to find a holiday bird for Thanksgiving at Camp Chitaqua.
A/N: I stole my own spn-shebang idea in order to write this for ladyjaganshi who wanted some End!verse fluff; uh, if you expect angst in End!verse fic, you won't find it here.
It's become increasingly more difficult to find them these days -- Dean sometimes wonders of the croats are eating the goofy birds -- but he insists every year that the survivors at the camp celebrate Thanksgiving with a turkey dinner. It's the only holiday they celebrate since it's not really something started to honor any deities (especially the one responsible for the mess humanity is in now.) And besides, giving thanks for what little they do have with a party boosts morale.
"I got one!" announces Risa excitedly as the small hunting party returns. With some difficulty, she hoists the large bird up by it's legs for inspection. Dean occasionally wonders if they should continue to waste the ammunition on something as mundane as a holiday turkey but seeing the excitement on the faces gathered around, he decides they all need this.
During a raid, they managed to gather quite a few types of seeds which they added to their stockpile. Apparently, Chuck has one hell of a green thumb so at least they have a get all the fixings that go along with the meal.
Laughter breaks Dean away from his thoughts and he looks back up. Standing off to the side holding a heavy-looking bag full of... Dean can't even begin to guess what, Cas smiles gently at the group that so rarely has the chance to be cheerful.
Dean takes note of the angel's (Cas may be mostly human now, but Dean refuses to think of him as such) reserved behavior, he makes an attempt to catch Castiel's gaze.
Dean can tell the moment Cas realizes he's being watched when the slight upward turn of his lips stretches into a full blown, teeth-baring grin that crinkles the corners of his cerulean eyes. Those eyes slide to meet Dean's with a rather impudent waggle of his dark brows.
Before he can reign it in, an amused chuckle escapes the hunter as Cas sidles up beside him. "Welcome back, Cas."
"Thank you, Fearless Leader!" Cas replies as he slips his arm into Dean's and twines their fingers together.
"I assume that everything went well?" Dean asks, giving a soft squeeze to the hand wrapped around his.
"Without a hitch." There's a jovial twinkle in Castiel's eyes.
"Awesome!" Dean thinks he should start to worry; a mischievous Cas is more than a handful. Instead, he lets his curiosity get the better of him. "So, what's in the bag then?"
"That," Cas says as he disentangles their hands to ruffle Dean's spikey hair, "is for me to know, and for you to not know!" In rare display of public affection, Cas pecks a quick kiss to Dean's lips. Then he slings the lumpy bag over his shoulder and follows the rest of the light-hearted crew toward the building they jokingly call the mess hall.
"That's supposed to end with 'for you to find out,' Cas," he calls out at the angel's departing back. Cas responds with a dismissive wave.
"Great. Now what?" he asks himself.
Dean isn't allowed to help prepare anymore, not after the incident where he tried to fry the turkey. The damn thing hadn't even been frozen. Cas luckily still had some of his powers back then and had been able to save the meal.
The weather is a little chilly, but the sun warms the brisk air as he relocates chairs to the dining area with the help of several newcomers. He gets busy setting the table with whatever plates and flatware he can find until someone rings the bell that announces that supper is on.
It's a little after three in the afternoon by the time they all sit down to a sprawling meal of cornbread dressing, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, dinner rolls, broccoli and cheese casserole, and an array of other side dishes.
There are even mini marshmallows melted on top of the sweet potatoes, though Dean has no idea where those came from.
Dean sits at one end of the table. Cas takes the seat immediately to Dean's right, but nobody sits in the other chair to the hunter's left. It's not something Dean ever voiced out loud, but he appreciates the sentiment, how understanding the people around him are. Not wanting to ruin the mood, he tries not to think too hard about his missing brother. He does occasionally scowl at the otherwise wasted portions he adds to the extra plate before he passes the food on to the next person.
After the food is utterly demolished, the tables cleared away, and the dishes washed -- Dean tries to lend a hand, but he is consistently met with "you do more than enough around here as is!" (he helps out anyway) -- Cas, whom Dean hadn't noticed was missing through all the hustling and bustling, appears wearing a blue frilly apron to steer him back to their cabin.
He is shoved playfully toward the couch as Cas disappears once more. When the angel returns with a plate in hand, he's surrounded by the smell of heated cinnamon and clove. A sudden dread fills Dean as he stares at the golden pastry crust and sweet fruit.
"Cas, did you make apple pie?" he asks, trying not to sound as alarmed as he feels. Orchards, at least the ones that haven't been burned to the ground, are a potential food source for uninfected humans. And as such, demons watch them very closely. Dean's chest clenches up as his mind runs through the various 'what could've happened' scenarios.
"Yes, now tell me how it tastes," Cas demands as he flops onto the worn chair beside Dean.
"Crusts are ridiculously hard to get right."
For several long seconds, Dean stares at the plate as though it's existence is physically painful before his eyes dart back to Cas.
"Oh, for the love of-" Cas starts. He stabs the pie with the fork and offers a bite to Dean. "We checked the place out first. No croats or demons, and I disarmed the security spells. Like I said earlier, without a hitch. Now, stop worrying!"
Taking a breath, Dean reaches up to bracket Castiel's face between his hands and forces the angel to really look at him. He gets it, he really does. Dean understands wanting to do something nice for friends and family, gets that giving is receiving and all that, but he doesn't see how endangering everyone for something as unnecessary as a freaking dessert is worth the effort. "Dude, you know how much I like apple pie, love it -- God! do I love me some good apple pie -- but Cas, I love you more."
Castiel has an all too knowing look upon his face, which has the odd effect of making Dean feel somehow irreverent and cherished at the same time. That expression quickly turns into a smirk as Cas takes advantage of the hunter's momentary bewilderment to shove the bite past his slack lips.
It's been years since Dean had any, but this falls into his 'top five most awesome pies he's ever had' list, and really, who taught Cas how to bake?
When Dean groans around the mouthful of the warm gooey apples, his lashes fluttering closed. "Totally worth it, Dean," remarks Cas.
"Did you make me pie to get laid?" Dean asks, suspicious as he chews.
"No?" responds Cas, and he must know how unconvincing his tone is. Dean just swallows and levels a cussed look at the angel. The slant of Cas' mouth quirks into a sneaky grin as he climbs into Dean's lap. He amends, "Maybe a little...."
"Maybe a little," Dean mimics and his eyes light up.
Cas just sets the plate aside and leans into the hunter to plant a kiss upon his lips.