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"Hey, Cas!" Dean called, following the smell of burned meat through the bunker. "Everything good?"
He turned into the kitchen in time to see Cas, apron askew, reach into the oven with no pot holder or oven mitt.
"Shit, fuck, goddamn no!" Cas screeched, pulling his hand out of the oven and cradling it against his chest. "Ow, shit, fuck, no!"
"Cas!" He looked up at Dean, tears in his eyes.
"Dean," he gasped. "Dinner!"
"Fuck dinner," Dean swore, moving in. He pressed his hand behind Cas’s shoulder and led the angel-turned-human to the sink. He turned on the water as cold as it would go and gently placed Cas’s hand under the stream.
"Dean, the food -" Cas began, but Dean shushed him.
"I don’t give a damn about the food." Dean sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head gently against the back of Cas’s. "Seriously, man. You have to be more careful. You don’t have any more mojo to fix you up."
Cas’s shoulders slumped. “I know,” he mumbled, head turning away from where Dean was still holding his hand under the water.
Dean moved in front of Cas, letting go of his injured hand. “Keep that there,” Dean warned, before lifting Cas’s face with a crooked finger under his chin. “Look at me.”
"Dean-"
"No, Cas, look." Dean tilted his head until his eyes met Cas’s and then brought his head back up. "You’re doing great. You’re adapting better than anyone expected, but there are going to be some screw ups." Dean leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Cas’s forehead. "How’s your hand feel?"
"I’ve had worse," Cas mumbled grumpily.
"We both have, but burns are a pain in the ass." Dean sighed before pulling back. "I’m going to go get the burn cream and bandages. You stay right here with your hand under the water. If you move, I’ll put on a car show instead of the history channel tonight. I think there’s a Top Gear marathon on." Dean’s expression was serious, but his eyes were sparkling mischievously.
Cas huffed in resigned amusement. “I can follow simple instructions.”
Dean grinned. “I’m sure you can.” He leaned over and kissed Cas on the cheek. “Stay.”
Dean shut off the oven and ran out of the room. He came back in with gauze, adhesive-less tape, and burn cream. He made quick work of patching Cas up and when they were done, Dean got out yesterday’s cold pizza and a six pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
"This is dinner tonight, and we’re eating in front of the TV."
Cas smiled gently. “Fine, Dean.”
They cuddled up on the couch and ate, watching a show on the history of the Byzantine Empire. Dean couldn’t have cared less about the show; his entertainment was listening to Cas mumble disgruntled corrections at the television.
When the program was over, Dean woke up with Cas snuggled firmly against his side. He smiled softly and kissed Cas’s head. “Come on sleepybutt. Wake up.” Cas’s only acknowledgement was to nuzzle more firmly into Dean’s side.
After several more minutes of fruitless effort, Dean finally gave up and carried Cas to bed.