Chapter Text
Cas watched. It was what he was trained to do, after all, watching. He watched as the apocalypse tried to happen and was derailed by a couple of self-sacrificing codependent humans. And he watched the brothers some more, once they let him in their life.
The brothers were very different. Sam was a towering 6’4”, long brown hair that Cas had always thought must be soft, shifting hazel eyes, and skin that easily tanned to a golden-brown. He had a fair amount of muscle, and was shy, funny, brilliant, and kind. Kind as the world was wide, as the ocean was deep.
Dean on the other hand was 6’1”, a solid height, but he sometimes looked small next to Sam. His hair was a much lighter brown, verging into dirty blonde. He was sly, arrogant, and brandished a devil-may-care attitude as freely as his pistol.
Cas was in love with both of them. This was a problem because, well... they were together. And that only fed into more of why Castiel wanted them. When they were together, connected, the glow of their souls was beautiful to behold. In addition, that deep, quiet devotion... who would not want to sample that kind of love?
He couldn’t try with Dean. Dean was likely to freak out on him, it had to be Sam. Sam would hear him out. Even if the angel kept his feelings to himself. He often felt he was getting strangely more human the longer he was in love with the brothers. Maybe that was the real issue.
Castiel, the angel who loved. The angel who chose to rebel, for love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam was sitting in the bunker. His large hands were absentmindedly tangled in his hair, and he was perusing what looked like a very old text. Castiel approached timidly. Sam glanced up before he got even halfway to anywhere. “Here,” Sam smiled at Cas, pulling out a chair. Cas nodded awkwardly, sitting.
Sam studied him, eyes warm. “I assume something’s on your mind, what is it?”
Cas fidgeted. “Well... I don’t really...”
Sam tilted his head curiously. “Come on, spit it out, you can say anything. You know that, Cas.”
Cas didn’t want to say it, the words were too big, they were bouncing behind his teeth, they were gonna come out. “I want to cook you and Dean dinner,” he forced himself to say instead, in a rush.
Sam blinked. “Yeah, okay. Do you know how to cook?”
Cas looked at the floor. “I, uh... downloaded Martha Stewart’s cooking abilities while she slept.”
Sam laughed delightedly. “Amazing. Alright, when do you want to make us dinner?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And do you have the ingredients for it? We could go shopping?”
Castiel made a helpless gesture. “It’s for you and Dean. I don’t want you shopping at all.”
Sam smiled. “Alright.”
Cas nodded, getting up stiffly. “That is all,” he said, and promptly flew away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cas didn’t see Sam and Dean for the rest of that night. He was locked away in his head, deciding what to make. In the end he settled on a beet tatin to cater to Sam, a baked macaroni, a steak for Dean, and a greens salad to go on the side. And of course, a delectable sweet red. Some instinct told him that it was too much food, but he ignored it. This must be perfect.
He also decided he needed to pick up candles while he was out. What did humans find pleasing to smell? He would maybe have to ask at the store.
He waited for the stores to be open, sitting for hours in the dark. As soon as possible, he flew into town.
He picked up his ingredients, selected a candle (pumpkin spice and everything nice), and grabbed a tablecloth. He knew the utensils for the cooking and grilling were at the bunker, but he picked up a really nice cooking set. He was internally thankful that Charlie had given the brothers those credit cards. He would not want to inconvenience them.
Then he picked up an apron, and a new outfit, a warm brown pressed suit.
Armed with his purchases, off Castiel went.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First thing Castiel did back at the bunker was change into his new outfit, and put on the apron. He waited until the brothers were in their separate areas, likely to remain so for the day, and then headed to the kitchen with his spoils. He set the table, a white lace tablecloth, a candle in the center, and plates, cutlery, and napkins arranged just so. He then began his baking.
All afternoon Castiel worked carefully, tenderizing and marinating the meat, chopping and putting away the salad, making the vinaigrette for Sam... He made his own puffed pastry, and carefully cut the beets into tiny slices. He arranged them in a pretty rose pattern, scattered goat cheese liberally over the top, and then tucked his puff pastry sheet in so that there would be square corners.
He set his tatin to bake, and began whipping up his cheese sauce and his pasta of choice, cavatapi (made for a fancier noodle).
He grilled and chopped and cleaned until everything was perfect.
He glanced at the clock. 5:37. The brothers would likely want dinner soon. He got his tatin out of the skillet, expertly flipping it so the design was up. He set everything on the table, removed his apron, and then waited.
At 6 exactly, Sam walked in. He stopped short, his nose twitching, and then continued forward. He smiled at Cas. “Looks really nice.” He glanced at the lace and made a momentary face Cas did not understand. Why humor?
Sam then took in the tatin. His eyes widened a bit. “Cas, you made that?”
Cas nodded. “Of course. You do not prefer meat, and even your brother may like it. It has cheese.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Really? Huh!”
Dean walked in the door to the kitchen. “What are we ‘really, huh’ing about?”
Sam gestured to the table. “That beet tart. Cas made it, he says there’s cheese.”
Dean eyed it dubiously. “The bottom layer,” explained Cas. “Goat chevre. Excellent contrast to the flavor profile of the beets.”
Dean blinked. “How...?”
Cas gestured for them to sit down. Sam sat first, while Cas filled the wine glasses he had out.
“Cas, er, downloaded Martha Stewart’s cooking abilities,” Sam said, eyes again lighting with humor Cas did not understand.
Dean let out a bark of laughter. “Really? Huh.”
Castiel tilted his head, frowning at Dean as Dean finally sat. “Sam laughed too. I do not understand why this is humorous.”
Dean grinned. “Well, the same reason your lace tablecloth is humorous, Cas, it seems like you’re trying to seduce us.”
Cas nodded seriously. “Exactly.”
Sam, who was taking a sip of wine, choked. Dean patted his back absentmindedly, staring at Castiel like he had grown an additional head. Castiel didn’t think that was fair. He hadn’t had an extra head for a while.
“But why?” Dean asked, sounding a trifle helpless.
“Because I am in love with you. Both of you.”
Sam blinked. “I wondered.”
Dean looked at him in confusion. “You wondered? What? This is totally out of left field, dude.”
Sam shook his head. “Nah, not really. I mean, he is an angel who rebelled, because we asked him to. That sounds a lot like love to me.”
Dean sighed, rubbing his face. “Regardless, Cas, I hate to say it but, you can’t spring that kind of thing on people. We’ll have to get back to you, k?
Cas nodded. “You will still eat the meal I prepared?”
Sam smiled, kind as always. “Of course, you put in a lot of effort, and it all looks delicious.”
Without further ado, they dug in. Castiel was not discouraged yet, though, not by any means.