Fic: Taste
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: FRT, for mild sexual suggestiveness
Characters: Dean, Cas
Setting: Season four; blanket spoilers.
Summary: Dean introduces Cas to pie.
08. Taste
Dean licks his lips, because--mmm, yeah--this is gonna be good. Dressed to please, showing just enough skin to let his mind wander: long golden lines that he could just sink his teeth into, it'll be hot as hell, but with the promise of a sweet, vanilla side, too. It's the hint of cinnamon wafting from across the diner that does him in. He openly stares as the waitress approaches their table and sets the plates down in front of them.
Is that not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?
Castiel stares shrewdly across the table.
"I find your eagerness for pie discomfiting."
Seriously, dude. It's got cinnamon crumble. How are you not excited?
Cas squares his plate, wearing his customary expression of 'impending doom.' Only he could make eating desert look like a funeral march.
Dean props his elbows up and leans in across the table.
Okay. You remember the apple in the Garden of Eden, right?
"Of course. 'The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.' Traditionally interpreted by theologians as an apple, though it bore more physical resemblance to a pitaya."
Right. Well. Eve took that apple and she baked a fuckin' awesome pie.
Cas purses his lips in disapproval.
"You are aware that is a grossly inaccurate account. Neglecting that the fruit was not an apple, there was neither equipment nor need for baking in the Garden. Everything exists there in its most perfect form and requires no--"
Cas.
They stare at each other for a moment, equally unimpressed. Castiel relents.
"Regardless, I was unaware that pie commemorated the Fall of Man."
Well, I ordered you blackberry cobbler, so you don't have to worry.
Dean digs into his pie with relish, savoring the warmth and the slow draw of flavors that emerge. The apple is firm but tender and perfectly sweetened, wrapped in a delightfully flaky golden crust. The cinnamon crumble is particularly good--he was right to choose it over the strawberry-rhubarb. Nothing beats the classics.
Castiel prods warily at his cobbler but eventually takes a bite. Dean interprets the widening of eyes as pleasantly surprised. He counts this as a victory, and they finish their dessert in comfortable quiet.
As they are waiting, Dean asks, So?
Castiel nods. "The natural sweetness of the blackberries is very complimentary to the buttery crust. And I find that the pairing of textures is also not unpleasant. It is a suitable dessert. You are welcome to invite me the next time you partake."
Dean laughs.
And he saw that it was good.
Rating: FRT, for mild sexual suggestiveness
Characters: Dean, Cas
Setting: Season four; blanket spoilers.
Summary: Dean introduces Cas to pie.
08. Taste
Dean licks his lips, because--mmm, yeah--this is gonna be good. Dressed to please, showing just enough skin to let his mind wander: long golden lines that he could just sink his teeth into, it'll be hot as hell, but with the promise of a sweet, vanilla side, too. It's the hint of cinnamon wafting from across the diner that does him in. He openly stares as the waitress approaches their table and sets the plates down in front of them.
Is that not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?
Castiel stares shrewdly across the table.
"I find your eagerness for pie discomfiting."
Seriously, dude. It's got cinnamon crumble. How are you not excited?
Cas squares his plate, wearing his customary expression of 'impending doom.' Only he could make eating desert look like a funeral march.
Dean props his elbows up and leans in across the table.
Okay. You remember the apple in the Garden of Eden, right?
"Of course. 'The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.' Traditionally interpreted by theologians as an apple, though it bore more physical resemblance to a pitaya."
Right. Well. Eve took that apple and she baked a fuckin' awesome pie.
Cas purses his lips in disapproval.
"You are aware that is a grossly inaccurate account. Neglecting that the fruit was not an apple, there was neither equipment nor need for baking in the Garden. Everything exists there in its most perfect form and requires no--"
Cas.
They stare at each other for a moment, equally unimpressed. Castiel relents.
"Regardless, I was unaware that pie commemorated the Fall of Man."
Well, I ordered you blackberry cobbler, so you don't have to worry.
Dean digs into his pie with relish, savoring the warmth and the slow draw of flavors that emerge. The apple is firm but tender and perfectly sweetened, wrapped in a delightfully flaky golden crust. The cinnamon crumble is particularly good--he was right to choose it over the strawberry-rhubarb. Nothing beats the classics.
Castiel prods warily at his cobbler but eventually takes a bite. Dean interprets the widening of eyes as pleasantly surprised. He counts this as a victory, and they finish their dessert in comfortable quiet.
As they are waiting, Dean asks, So?
Castiel nods. "The natural sweetness of the blackberries is very complimentary to the buttery crust. And I find that the pairing of textures is also not unpleasant. It is a suitable dessert. You are welcome to invite me the next time you partake."
Dean laughs.
And he saw that it was good.