Castiel sits in the booth, staring at his laptop. He halfheartedly pokes at a few keys, then slams the delete key until the page is blank again. He sips at his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. He longs for a good chai, or even his favorite English breakfast tea, but what was it that Giles said on Buffy the Vampire Slayer? “Tea is soothing, I wish to be tense*.” That’s me alright, Cas thinks.
Stupid to try to write at JP’s. It’s full of students, chattering and laughing, seemingly without a care in the world. Apparently they don’t have a creative writing final due in three days and nothing but a blank screen to show for it. He’d thought getting out of his dorm room would help, away from…certain distractions.
No! he thinks loudly at himself. Don’t think about–
“Hey, Cas! Didn’t think I’d see you here! Don’t you have a story to write or something?”
Startled, Cas looks up into the moss-green eyes of his roommate, Dean.
“I, uh…yes, Dean, I do. I thought a change of scenery might help. But it’s not working. I’ve got nothing.”
Dean slides onto the bench across from Cas, an easy smile on his face. “You should do like me, major in biology. Sure there are papers to write, but it’s not creative. They tell me to write a paper about photosynthesis, I write about photosynthesis. I don’t have to think, I just do it. Easy as pie.” He sits up straighter. “Hey, speaking of…”
Cas grins. “Yeah, they’ve got pie today. Apple crumble’s on the far end.”
“Score!” says Dean, practically leaping out of the booth. “Want some? And do you need more tea? English breakfast, right?”
Dean blanches. “You can’t drink coffee! No wonder you aren’t getting anything written! Let me get you some proper tea. And…” He scans the pastry shelves, then shakes his head. “No, that won’t work. I’ll be right back.”
And before Cas can open his mouth to protest, Dean is out the door and running.
Bewildered, Cas looks back at his laptop. What just happened? he wonders. He idly types a few words and deletes them.
Fifteen minutes later Dean is back, a huge grin on his face.
“You don’t need sugar, you need brain food. I went across the street to the Italian place. Tuxedo chicken with fresh tomatoes, and garlic breadsticks. That should get you writing.” Dean sets the take-out bag on the table with a flourish.
His grin falters when he sees Cas staring up at him, unblinking. “Is something wrong?” he asks. “That’s your favorite, right?”
Slowly Cas asks, “How did you know all that?”
Dean’s ears turn pink. “I just…pay attention, I guess,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Just like I know that apple crumble pie is your favorite,” Cas says, pulling himself to his feet.
“I guess…” says Dean
“And I know you fall asleep listening to Led Zeppelin and you want to find a ‘67 Impala to restore someday, because your dad had one when he was your age.” Cas says, moving closer to Dean.
“I know you want a house in the country where you can write and have a garden and keep bees,” Dean says. His voice is barely more than a whisper.
“I know that I want to kiss you right now,” says Cas, his eyes smiling.
“That’s something we both want,” Dean says, and he closes the space between them.
Several students nearby burst into applause and catcalls, but all Cas can think of is the softness of Dean’s lips against his own.
When they stop for breath, Dean smiles and says, “I’ll get that tea now.” He winks as he adds, “Should I get it go go?”
Closing his laptop with a decisive snap, Cas grins back and says, “Yes. I think maybe my writer’s block is gone.”
@yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend: ugh, I had my gallbladder taken out about ten years ago. No fun…although I felt much better after I was all healed; I wouldn’t wish gallbladder attacks on anyone!!
Here’s some fluff to make you feel better!! :)
“Dean, we need to talk.”
Dean looked up from his book to see Sam leaning against his doorframe, an odd expression on his face.
“And before you say anything, just let me say…” He trailed off, looking like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of pond sludge.
“Before I’m 50, Sam.”
Sam took a deep breath. “Look. I know you’ve got this whole repression thing going on, your ‘if I don’t talk about it it isn’t real’ plan of attack, or defense, or whatever it is, but I really think you’re going to have to face this head-on at some point, and I’m thinking that point is going to be–”
Dean tried. He really did. But this was too much. He did not like where this conversation was headed.
“Sammy! I have two things to say to you. 1. You’re rambling. Stop. And B. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Dude. He’s baking a pie.”
Dean froze. Cas was…baking? Pie?
Dean heard Sam say “Apple. He bought the crust but he’s making the filling..” but it sounded like he was far away, or maybe underwater. His brain was too full of Cas to listen to Sam now.
Cas. Baking a pie. Cas didn’t eat pie–Cas didn’t really eat anything. Sam barely ate pie. So if Cas is baking a pie, did that mean it was for…
And Cas didn’t cook. Back when he was human he raved about peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and he could make passable coffee, but Dean had never seen him so much as fry an egg. And now…
Baking a paleo peach crumble pie! Can be turned vegan when the honey is substituted!
5 cups diced peaches (peeled) (this was 2-4 large peaches for me)
2 Tbs honey
1-2Tbs of coconut sugar
2 cups almond flour
1 tbs (i add like… 3 but I always go overboard on spice)cinnamon
1tbs(same here) nutmeg
1 Tbs melted coconut oil
½ cup maple syrup
-Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
-Place the peeled and diced peaches on the bottom of the pan. Top the peaches with 2 Tbs of honey and coconut sugar.
- Mix the peaches around with a spoon so that the the honey and sugar becomes evenly mixed into the peaches.
-In a separate bowl, mix the almond flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg together and set aside.
-In another separate bowl, mix the melted coconut butter and maple syrup together.
-Pour the coconut butter/maple syrup mixture on top of the almond flour mixture and mix until clumps form and there are no really dry areas of the mixture left.
-Evenly pour the almond flour mixture on top of the fruit in the pan.
-Distribute the almond flour topping across the peaches, forming a “crumble” texture.
-Bake for 30 minutes or until the crust is crisp and the edges are lightly golden
Plus using cinnamon and nutmeg to make a small warmth and energy spell is fantastic not to mention the almond flour and coconut sugar for sweetness and grounding. (And so much more) add a little sunshine to your day with this recipe 💗
And that’s it! It’s super easy and super delicious! This can really work with many different fruits! Apples, berries, cherries, etc!!!!
Steve had planned another perfect night for them, so when he brought her home after their dinner and dancing, both her body and mind craved for something more than just a sexually-frustrating goodnight kiss. She had insinuated that he was more than welcome (I mean, really…) to join her for a nightcap, but he behaved like a perfect gentleman -to [Y/N]’s annoyance- and gave her an extra long, extra deep, and extra maddening kiss to say goodnight. His voice was hoarse when he left, and she needed release.
When their next date came around, she was determined to get that release from Steve, or at least cause him some sexual suffering too. For a change, and an obvious strategic move, she decided not to go out, but to lure him in with the promise of a home cooked meal. She had been running around all day, tidying up her place, going grocery shopping, taking a long and relaxing bath, and doing the actual cooking.
Summary: You are missing your boyfriend who is now a demon, obviously, things don’t go well.
A/N: This is for @babypieandwhiskey for her Creative Birthday Challenge. My prompt was the song Crawling Back to You by the Artic Monkeys. I literally love this song so much and I was so happy to have a chance to write a fic inspired by it because I thought it was perfect for some demon Dean angst. Happy birthday Cam :)
Craning your neck back until it cracked a painfully, you studied the ceiling it was the strange popcorn texture that was infamous in rundown motels like this, and you let your mind wander back to the last time you had seen him. Your stomach clenched at the thought. Him lying on the bed, that disgusting blade wrapped tightly in his fist, eyes calmly close, it was almost like he was sleeping. He wasn’t, of course, death had a way of distorting those images you held in your mind of how peaceful he typically looked when he was resting. Now all you could think about was his lifeless corpse and the way you had felt as you watched Sam studying his big brother, wheels of his brain churning, as he tried to think of a way to bring him back.