He woke abruptly in a cold sweat and sat straight up, his breathing rapid and harsh.
"It was just a dream." He told himself, as he calmed down. He wasn't used to dreaming yet. He'd never slept as an angel, so he had never had dreams. Or nightmares. This was a whole new experience for him. Swinging his legs round to the side, he slid out of bed. His bare feet touched the soft carpet, and he wiggled his toes, enjoying the feeling of the fibres between them. Running a hand through his knotted, greasy hair, he walked across the room to the en suite bathroom. He opened the door, and it creaked, piercing the absolute silence. The tile flooring was cold, and he shivered as he stepped onto it. He stood before the mirror and stared into it, grasping each side of the sink.
There he was. Late 30's, dark, short, messy hair, striking blue eyes, slight stubble on his jaw line. Perceptible shadows under his eyes, healthy skin, but slightly paler than usual. Eyebrows forming a slight frown, lips pushed together in concentration as he evaluated his appearance. Conclusion: He looked like crap. Sighing, Castiel roused himself and switched the shower on. He just couldn't get the water right - at first, it was too cold, and he exclaimed as it hit him in full force. He jumped back, slipping on the wet floor and catching himself just before he could fall. Warily, he pulled himself up. Fiddling at the dial, he turned it all the way up and burned his arm. Cursing, he turned it down to what he presumed was a medium setting, and heaved out a sigh of relief as he got the temperature perfect. Under the curtain of water, Cas felt isolated from all of his problems. He forgot about The Fall, about his humanity, and about their last failure of a hunt. He soaped his hair, washed down his body, and then just stood, letting the water run over his face, cleansing his soul. He had never understood why Dean had made such a big deal over the water pressure in the bunker, but now he did. Now that he was human. It was wonderful.
Finally, he turned the water off and felt through the dense steam for a towel and a shirt. He found both, and dried himself before donning the shirt. It was quite fitted and showed the outline of his vessel's muscles. He should really start viewing his vessel as himself - they were one and the same now. He slid his pants and jeans on back in his room, and then left for the door. At the last minute, he turned round and grabbed his angel blade. Just in case.
Cas strolled through the corridors, his bare feet slapping on the floor. He reached the kitchen, bumping into a fire extinguisher by the door. He glanced down threateningly at the extinguisher before sticking his head around the door. No one. Were Sam and Dean seriously still asleep? That was so uncharacteristic of them. He decided that he would treat the Winchesters to breakfast. Cas pottered around the kitchen, trying to get appliances to work. He turned a knob and it made a clicking sound, releasing a horrible smell. Try as he might, he couldn't turn it back again. Frantically, he shook it, tried to lift it, and tried pushing down on it. As he pushed it, the gas lit up and set fire to Cas' t-shirt.
"Ahhh, crap!" He cussed, slapping at the shirt, trying to put out the fire, but it only spread. As a last ditch effort, he took it off and threw it into the sink. It sizzled as it splashed into the water. Coughing, he wafted the smoke away. At least he had gotten the ring of fire thing to work. Now, where were the pans? He sorted through the cupboards and found one.
"Score one to the human, nil to the homicidal oven." Cas said, glaring at the ominous ring of fire. Turning his attention to the fridge, he pulled open the door and rifled through its contents. Eventually, he came across an unopened packet of burgers.
"Dean likes burgers..." Cas mumbled to himself, and brought them over to the pan. He retrieved his angel blade from his pocket, shrugged, and used it to slice open the pack of burgers. He put three into the pan, one on top of the other, put a lid on top, and turned up the heat to full. One for each of them. Now to address his problem of having no shirt.
