#so I grab a premade thing which was fine but I couldn’t get the potatoes hot but the chicken burned my mouth

[vague-homosexual-crimes]

objectively today is not the worst shift I’ve had but it’s really competing for the title

[awkward-radar-tech]

McTavish in the Kitchen

Summary: After being paired with you in his cooking class so you could get extra help, William finds out that you play Fortnite. When he realizes he learns through his experiences, he invites you over to teach him in exchange for a homemade dinner.

A/N: First fic of the new year!!! 1 wip down 5 more to go. This fic is written more from William’s perspective because I found it hard to write a reader that doesn’t know how to cook since I do. If it flows funky, I’m sorry, my brain is stupid and don’t always notice, or think it is but it actually isn’t.

Prompt, from the lovely uni-anon 🦄: The reader could be at the same cooking class and not be very good at it as well so she gets paired with William. She finds out he’s trying to learn Fornite for his son, which she is an expert at! He asks her to teach him exchanged for a home cooked meal. When there at his place she hears him muttering to himself out of habit like he’s on a cook show and then he gets all embarrassed!

Every Thursday night for the past 3 months, William McTavish has been at the same place, the local community college. He saw a flyer posted around town that they were beginning to hold cooking classes in the culinary institute kitchens for adults who wanted to learn to cook full meals. For only $40 you could attend a month of classes where you would learn to make a different meal each week, and that each month had a different cuisine theme so the dishes weren’t repeated month to month, and it didn’t matter how skilled you were in the kitchen, you just had to bring your own knives.

His skills had improved over the time he took the class, his food finally tasted delicious to go along with the technical excellence that he had before. This lead to him being paired with a truly beginner cook on the first Thursday of his fourth month by the instructors. William felt great pride that the instructors felt he was adept enough to provide extra help to a novice, he just hoped he could actually help her.

When you signed up for cooking classes, there was a questionnaire asking about your skills and experience cooking, and being honest you put that the most you were capable of was warming up premade foods. At the first class you weren’t expecting to be paired with a veteran of the class so he could help you when an instructor couldn’t. You took it in stride and told yourself getting help from 4 people will surely improve your talent in the kitchen.

You walked over to the front, left station and introduced yourself to your partner, “Uhh, hi, I’m (y/n). They told me I am to work with you so you can help me since I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

He looked up from the recipe card and turned to face you, “Hello, (y/n), I’m William. I’m not sure the quality of my teaching skills, but I will do my best.”

You set your stuff down and looked over the recipe while waiting for the instruction to begin. You were happy you chose to start this month with Italian than next month with Mexican, boiling pasta and making a sauce is simple enough. While you were using dried pasta, you were making the sauce and rolls from scratch.

The class still hadn’t begun when William spoke to you again, “I know you said you didn’t really know anything, but you do know how to turn on an oven and a stove, and how to boil water along with pasta, right? I want to know where I need to begin.”

“I know how to turn things on, and how to boil water, but when I make pasta it is either too mushy or uncooked in the center.”

“Alright. Figuring out when pasta is al dente takes a bit of practice.”

“I hope I won’t be too much of a bother to you, William.”

“Don’t worry about it. When I started these classes I could make things well technically, but they tasted bland or out right horrid. I’ve gotten better these past few months.”

Then the instructors were moving to the front of the room to begin the class. William did in fact show you how to test the doneness of your pasta, and you were proud that you were able to chop garlic by yourself after the instructor taught the class. At the end of the class you were surprised at how well your meal tasted, and that you helped make it. After packing away your things you pulled out your keys, putting your pinky through the keyring like normal, and waved goodbye to William.

“Thank you so much for your help, William. Have a good night and see you next week.”

He was ready to respond but then had to take a pause when he saw your keychain, “Uh, yeah, no problem. Good night. See you next week.”

He was pretty sure that you had a Fortnite character on your keychain, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t want to keep you any longer by asking, but he told himself he would ask next week.

The next week when William walked in his usual 30 minutes early to help set up he was surprised to see you already at the station speaking with one of the instructors.

You turned when you heard footsteps and immediately perked up and waved to William, “Hi William! It looks like you have a lot more to help me with this week, we’re making chicken parm. How was your week?”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit at your excitement, “Hello, (y/n). My week was alright, nothing out of the norm happened. How was your’s?”

“It was good. I had my best friend over and made him the recipe from last week. He liked it and was surprised I was learning to cook.”

“That is great. Hey, I have a quick question. Last week when you said goodbye, you had your keys in your hand, and I thought your keychain was familiar. Was that a character from Fortnite?”

“Oh, yeah, it is. Do you play?”

“Kind of. I’m trying to learn so I can play with my son Miles when he is over. He plays it a lot with his stepdad Rick so I figured I could too. I’ve been playing for a couple of weeks off and on, but I can’t seem to get the hang of it, and I don’t want to play with Miles until I’m good at it.”

“That is sweet. I’m practically pro, I can give you some tips on what to do.”

“That sounds great. Thank you.”

“It only seems fair since you are helping me with this.”

The rest of the night went by with each taking turns to explain their specialty, although William struggled to grasp the tips he was getting since he wasn’t in front of the game. By the end of the night he had conceded to his inability to understand the help he was given.

“Hey, (y/n), thank you for all the information tonight. There is just one problem, I can’t remember a thing you said since I wasn’t playing the game at the same time.” He paused for a moment in embarrassment and shyness, “Do you think you could maybe, if you’re comfortable with it, I understand if you say no, could you maybe come over to my apartment to reteach me everything while playing? I’ll make dinner.”

You were shocked by the question and took a moment to process what he said before answering, “Uhh, yeah, I can come over one night to show you what to do. I’m free Tuesday night. What time do you want me to be there?”

“How about 6?” He grabbed your copy of the recipe and a nearby pencil and wrote in the notes section, “Here is my number and address. Text me if something comes up. Also there are guest spots in the back of the building if there is no parking out front.”

“6 works great, William. See you on Tuesday, have a nice weekend.”

“You too.”

William spent the next few days worrying every time his phone vibrated from an incoming text that it was you texting to cancel, and deciding what to cook. You didn’t tell him about any dietary restrictions so he decided a simple steak dinner would suffice. On Monday night after work he went shopping for what he needed.

Roaming through the store he was a bit on auto-pilot and not completely paying attention to what he was doing, so his internal monologue became whispered to himself. “For a nice, juicy steak you want a good ratio of fat to meat. These right here seem perfect.” “A nice garlic butter is a must. I like to make my own but store bought is fine.” “I like to cook fresh broccoli but you can use frozen in the recipe too.” “To add variety to my roast potatoes, I’m grabbing a few purple ones. It will add a little pop of color.” “I would normally make my own salad, dressing, and croutons, but I’m lazy today so a premade bag of greens and store bought croutons and dressing will do just fine.” “And for dessert I think cookies, ice cream, and all the toppings will be great. Nothing too complicated. I’m getting premade dough so I can just pop them right in the oven when we are ready for them and have nice fresh cookies without much effort.”

When he got home he made the marinade for his steaks and set them in the fridge before attempting to understand Fortnite again. After becoming frustrated he switched over to watching Netflix before going to bed.

William got to work early on Tuesday so he could leave with enough time to get a majority of his cooking completed before you arrived. As he was heading to his car his phone began to ring, it was his ex-wife.

He begrudgingly answered it knowing she would only call if she really needed his help, “Hey, what’s up?”

To his surprise she sounded slightly distressed, “Hi William. Are you able to leave work and get Miles? My car broke down and he needs to be picked up from school before 5. Rick is out of town on a business trip or else he would be getting him. He is fine being home alone for a bit so you can just drop him off.”

“It is your lucky day, I’m actually leaving work now since I got in early. I’ll go get him, and I’ll text you when he has been dropped off.”

“Thank you so much William. You’re a lifesaver.”

And with that she hung up. There went his plans of being almost finished cooking by the time you got there, he wasn’t going to be home until 5:45, 5:30 if he was lucky. He was happy to see Miles, though, so it was worth it.

As he sat watching Miles walk up to and unlock the front door, he pulled out his phone to text that Miles was home safe, and a moment after he sent it he got a text back. He was confused for a moment when there was no new message from his ex, until he checked his notifications and saw it was from a new number, you. He was thankful when your message said you would be at his home a bit after six since you worked a bit later than expected, but you were leaving now. He quickly sent a text in response and then text his ex before safely rushing back home.

He had just put the potatoes in the oven after washing and cutting them when you knocked on his door. As he opened the door to greet you, he froze in shock at how you were dressed. Since he only had seen you twice and in casual clothes, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to be in a skirt suit. He had thought that is what you wore to work, since he didn’t know what you did.

William quickly recovered from his shock and properly welcomed you, “Hello, (y/n). Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you. Sorry for being late, a few programs took a bit longer processing than expected.”

“That is alright, I’m further behind in cooking than I wanted to be. I got out of work at an earlier time, but had to go get my son from school and take him home because his mom’s car broke down and her husband is out of town.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your own response, “Dad to the rescue!”

“Yeah, I guess that is true.”

“So, Chef William, what are we having tonight? And do you need help with any of it.”

“We are having steaks with garlic butter, roasted potatoes, and some perfectly made broccoli. And for dessert, warm cookie sundaes. And no, I got it, you’re here to enjoy food and teach me video games.”

“That sounds delicious. Where is your bathroom? I want to change into some comfy clothes, I can only handle so much time in a suit.”

“It is right over there. And feel free to play any games or watch something while I cook. I’ll be out when possible.”

Soon after you emerged from the bathroom he heard the unmistakable sounds of Fortnite coming from his living room. As he fell into his rhythm while washing, chopping, and then cooking the broccoli, he began his mostly subconscious habit. “Most vegetables actually are amazing side dishes when prepared correctly, especially broccoli. There is no making Brussels sprouts and spinach better for my taste buds, though, and peas must be mixed with other things so I can ignore them.” “My secret weapon in cooking almost anything is garlic. If garlic can’t fix it, nothing can.” “Broccoli has always been one of my favorite vegetables, I feel like a giant eating little tiny trees.” “So now that we have cut up this big broccoli into little broccolis, it is time for the blanching. Remember to have your bowl of ice water ready to stop the cooking.” “After it has had time to cool, remove the broccoli and toss with melted garlic butter, then place on a roasting sheet to roast for a bit in the oven with our beautiful potatoes.” “For this size steak you want to begin cooking them between 15 and 20 minutes before you want to eat so they have time to properly rest.” “Ooh, I just love that sizzle.”

He plated everything once finished and brought it out to his dining table, “Dinner is served mademoiselle.”

You returned to the home screen of the console before heading to the table, “William, this all looks delicious. Thank you so much.”

“It is the least I could do for you helping me.”

“I have just one question.”

A wave of anxiety rushed through his body, what could you be wanting to ask, “And that is?”

“Do you always talk like you’re on a cooking show? I assume you’re too busy helping me in class to do it then, though.”

William blushed in embarrassment, he didn’t think you heard him, “Only when I get in the zone. It happens when shopping for ingredients too. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I thought you couldn’t hear over the game.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when you gave him a kind smile, “Don’t be crazy, William. I found it adorable.”

The meal was a mix of comfortable silence and questions about each other. As the night progressed, William thought a great friendship could be blooming, he was glad since he didn’t have many friends.

When it came time to begin his lesson, he did his best to keep in mind that it is all right to not know what to do and not to get as frustrated as he had in the past. The way you taught helped him really understand what to do, and he improved so much that you decided to have him try a round without help. When he helped his squad win, your excitement got the best of you; you leapt toward him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pecking his cheek.

“Will! You did it! Ahhh! I’m so proud!”

He froze, you just kissed his cheek and hugged him. Maybe it could be more than a friendship, but he wasn’t going to push it.

When you realized what you did you gasped and stood up, “I’m so sorry William. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll, uhh, go now. See you Thursday.”

His senses quickly returned and he stood up too, “Don’t go (y/n), it is all right,” he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “We still have cookies and ice cream to eat.”

[hannahindie]

Angels Can’t Cook

Characters: Castiel x Reader, Dean Winchester (brief) Word Count: 2,514 Warnings: Some language, Cas being freaking adorable, Dean being a little shit. You know, the usual. A/N: I wrote this for @roxyspearing’s “We have a gif for that” challenge! My gif is below, and though it didn’t quite go the way I originally planned, I absolutely love how it turned out.

Beta’d by my wonderful writing soulmate, @trexrambling: “Famous last words. Also, that flower lady is my new favorite side character.” Dude, me too. Maybe I should write a fic with just the side characters coming together to save Sam and Dean. hahah

and also @pinknerdpanda, who is my literal twin: “HxlhskyrhlAgdjhflfi. *Flails* I love this so much!!!” I thoroughly enjoy making you flail.

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

“Sir?” The store employee cautiously approached the man standing in front of the meat case. “Sir, do you need help?”

The trenchcoated figured turned to face her, his eyes narrowed and head tilted, “Is this the best burger that you have?”

“Umm, yes, this is all the ground beef that we have.”

“Is it...organic?”

She forced herself to pull her eyes away from his bright blue ones and looked down at the case. “Well, some of it is. There are signs next to each one that tells you which is organic and which isn’t.”

He looked back down, his head still tilted slightly as he stared at the options. “What is the difference between organic and non-organic? Are they not all made from slaughtered cows?”

The girl looked back at him, her eyes wide as she wondered if he was being serious. “Umm...well, it’s more about what they’re fed and how they’re raised...and that sort of thing…” she trailed off.

He looked up and locked eyes with her again, “I see. Do you care about organic beef?”

“I mean...I care that the animals are treated well, although non-organic is cheaper so I guess it comes down to how much money I have for groceries that week. If I can afford organic, I try to support good farming practices.” Why was she telling this stranger about her shopping habits?

“I do not believe money will be an issue today, so in light of how Y/N feels about farm animals, I think I will choose the organic.” He picked up two packages of ground beef, then looked back to the girl and smiled, “Thank you, Lilly. I appreciate your help today.”

He left the confused girl behind and wandered off towards the fresh vegetables, his eyes trained on the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. His shopping cart was full almost to the brim, but he wanted to make sure that he found everything Y/N might like. He had spent the past three weeks observing her food choices, things she loved and things she absolutely hated, and was fairly positive that he had gathered enough information to create a dinner that she would enjoy.

“Why don’t you do something nice for her? Actions speak louder than words, man. Actions.” Dean’s voice echoed in his mind as he gathered corn on the cob, cucumbers, and a large container of spring mix and added them to his cart and, after a moment of deliberation, threw in a container of raspberries, a dozen apples, and a couple of kiwis. He made his way to the front of the store, but a bright splash of color caught his eye, and he changed direction.

“Can I help you?” He looked up to see an older woman with wispy silver hair pulled into a bun smiling at him.

“I am not sure. I would like to surprise my...friend. I do not know her favorite flowers, though.” He frowned, disappointed that he had not thought of it earlier.

“Hmm...well, let’s see.” The woman came from behind the counter and, only giving his overflowing cart a cursory look of thinly veiled amusement, began looking through the premade bouquets. “What’s she like, this friend of yours?”

“She is like a summer storm, warm and strong, but also like a hidden meadow, beautiful and wild.”

She looked up at him in surprise, “That is...very descriptive.” She put her hands on her hips as she thought, “None of these are going to work. Wait just a second, hon.” She disappeared into the room behind the counter and Cas stood silently, his eyes roaming the store as he waited patiently for her to come back.

“Alright, how about something like this?” Cas looked towards the voice and couldn’t help but smile widely at the bouquet she was holding out. It was filled with wildflowers, a rainbow of color sprinkled with baby’s breath, the stems held together with a burlap ribbon and fastened with a small pearl brooch.

“That is beautiful. I cannot think of a better way to describe Y/N using a floral arrangement. How much will that be?”

She looked from Cas to the cart, then back to him, “Is all that food for her?” He nodded proudly, and she smiled. “The flowers are on me, hon. She’s a lucky gal to have such a good...friend,” she said with a wink. Cas nodded and made his way to the checkout. This was turning out to be easier than he had anticipated.

Cas looked down at his flour caked hands and sighed. His assumption of this being easier than he’d anticipated was turning out to be short lived. He looked at the recipe again, then back down at the sticky mess that was supposed to be dough. Y/N had mentioned that when she was younger, her mother had baked the best bread she’d ever tasted. Of course, he didn’t have that recipe, but he figured any homemade bread would be suffice for what he had planned. What he didn’t plan was how difficult it would be to get it the right consistency. Baking was much more exact than the other things he had cooked today, and he was about to give up on the idea of serving warm, fresh bread with the soup course of his extravagant dinner plans.

“What in the everloving hell happened in here?”

Cas gathered the sticky mass of unusable dough and dumped it unceremoniously into the trash can. “I am making dinner for Y/N. You told me that actions speak louder than words, so I am taking an action, Dean.” He walked over to the sink and began scrubbing his hands.

“Yea, but I didn’t mean you had to destroy the kitchen in the process! Y/N just cleaned in here, she’s going to to murder you, man.” Cas turned around in time to see Dean wrinkle his nose as he looked down in one of the bubbling pots on the stove. “What...what is that?”

“It is tortellini. Y/N said she loves tortellini, and since she orders it at every restaurant that serves pasta, I believe that my assumption of it being her favorite food is accurate.”

“You're not wrong, but how long has this been boiling for? You’re supposed to take it off and drain it, it only takes, like...five minutes. They don’t even look like tortellinis anymore, it’s just soggy noodles and floating cheese.” He turned off the burner and moved the pot from the hot surface. “What else are you trying to make?”

Cas gestured to another pot on the stove as he pulled out the loaf of french bread he had bought as a backup, “Mashed potatoes. She loves mashed potatoes, so I made them from scratch. I found some that you could add water to, but it did not feel as personal that way.”

Dean nodded, “Not bad, buddy.” He grabbed a wooden spoon and scooped out a mouthful. The moment it hit his tongue, Dean groaned and spit it back out. He glared at the flavorless mass as it hit the floor with a wet thud.

Cas looked at him, his brows knitted in concern, “What is wrong?”

Dean wiped the offending potatoes from his mouth and tossed the spoon down on the counter, “Do you even know what salt is? Pepper? Any kind of seasoning at all?”

“They are mashed potatoes, I thought that that was all I needed to do.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “You thought you...just what...where’s the butter? Where is it?” He flung the refrigerator door open and began digging around. “Do we have milk? You’ve got to use milk and butter, Cas, or else it’s just...smashed potatoes. There’s no flavor, just a sad paste that no one wants to eat.”

“I do not need help, Dean, I am managing just fine on my own.” Cas grabbed a bowl and began pouring salad into it. He started cutting up carrots with a little more force than was necessary.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta disagree. It looks like all you’ve managed to do-” he stopped abruptly, and Cas glanced over to see a look of horror on Dean’s face. He looked from the stove top back up to Cas’ face, his mouth hanging open. “What...did...you...do?”

“I cooked steak,” Cas said with a shrug before returning back to his carrots.

“No, no, no, that’s not what you did. You made leather...you...destroyed...how? How did you do that? Cooking is not that difficult. You know what, it’s fine, it’s okay. You don’t eat, so obviously that’s the problem here. It looks like you bought enough food to feed us for a month, so I’ll just cook something up real quick and you can take the credit.”

“I said I can do it myself. I am making dinner for Y/N, not you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “No, you are making poison for Y/N. None of this is edible, man. Just let me help. Angels just aren’t cut out for this, obviously. I’ll cook it, you deliver it.”

Cas slammed the knife he’d been using onto the counter and ripped off the apron he was wearing, “Bite me, Dean. I was only trying to do something nice for Y/N, like you told me, and clearly I have made a mistake.”

“Aw, come on, I didn’t mean anything by it…” He trailed off as Cas disappeared. “Bite me? He’s been around me for way too long.” Dean turned back and looked at the kitchen, his hands on his hips. “And of course I’m going to have to clean this up before Y/N comes back.” His eyes land on the bouquet of flowers Cas had carefully arranged in a glass jar he had scrounged from the pantry and smiled. Cleaning up the mess would be worth it if those two got their shit together.

“What happened in here?!”

Dean flinched, then turned and gave Y/N a smile, “We were, uh...experimenting with food. You know, like those..uhh...gastro pubs you hear about all the time.”

She crossed her arms and frowned as she surveyed the mess, “Gastro pubs? And who is we? You had better clean this mess up, because I’m not doing it. Ugh, I can’t believe you. Gastro pubs…” She turned and walked out of the kitchen, still mumbling to herself. Dean grabbed a towel and a fresh trash bag, resigning himself to his fate.

“So much for that nap I was going to take,” he grumbled as he began tossing things into the trash.

Y/N was laying in bed, still frustrated by the mess she’d found in the kitchen. She had spent hours in there, cleaning and organizing, and Dean had destroyed it in one fell swoop. “Gastro pub,” she muttered as she angrily flipped the page of the book she was trying, and failing, to read. She wasn’t sure why it had frustrated her so much. Dean was usually pretty good at cleaning up after himself, but she was exhausted, and all she wanted was a little appreciation for what she’d spent so much time on.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she laid her book down, “Come in.”

The door creaked open slowly and Cas walked in, a large pizza in one hand and a beautiful bouquet in the other. “Hello, Y/N. Would you like some dinner?”

She smiled and nodded towards the empty spot next to her on the bed, “Sure thing, Cas. That’s really sweet of you.”

He sat the flowers on her desk and shut the door behind him, “I am sorry about the mess in the kitchen. I know that you spent a lot of time cleaning, and I promise I will make sure it is spotless.”

She tilted her head, “What are you talking about?”

“Dean said that I should do something nice for you, and so I decided to make your favorite foods for dinner. It has become very obvious that I do not have the skills necessary to do that. Reading instructions is one thing, actually doing it is quite another. I may have gotten frustrated with Dean and left the mess behind.” He sat the pizza between them on the bed, “I hope that pizza is okay. I will go clean up after myself.” Cas moved to stand up, and Y/N put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Stay...please?” He settled back onto the bed and Y/N flipped the box open, “Why did you want to do something nice for me?”

Cas cleared his throat and looked at her from the corner of his eye, his fingers drumming nervously against his thighs. “Dean said that actions speak louder than words, and I thought perhaps cooking your favorite things would be a good way to show my affection for you.”

Y/N froze, her pizza lingering halfway to her mouth, and she swallowed thickly as she sat it back down. “You have affection for me?”

He looked down at his hands, “Yes, I believe that would accurately describe how I feel towards you.” He was surprised when Y/N covered one of his hands with her own. He looked up to see she was staring at him, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth.

“Well, that’s good, because I was starting to think that maybe I was the only one that felt that way.” Cas’ brows raised and Y/N’s heart began to race. She had wanted to say something to him for months; but how does someone tell an angel of the Lord that she’s falling in love with him?

“You...also feel affection towards me?”

Y/N nodded, her hand moving from his own to his cheek, his five o’clock shadow rough against her palm, “Yea...I do.” His eyes searched hers, and for a moment she was lost in the bright cerulean depths. She wondered, not for the first time, how something could be so blue. She moved the pizza onto her night stand and shifted so that she was facing Cas. She leaned in and kissed him softly, smiling against him when she felt his arms wrap around her waist. After a moment, she pulled back to look at him, “I didn’t know that angels knew how to kiss.”

“I am not sure that they typically do. I have learned a lot from the pizza man.”

“The pizza man...you know what, I’m not going to question it.” She kissed him again and gasped when he flipped her onto her back.

“What about the kitchen?” Cas whispered, his blue eyes locked with her y/e/c ones.

“Sounds like a job for Dean, if you ask me,” she said with a wink. “Besides, I think you’ve got another job to do in here.”

“I would not call it a job-”

“Shut up and show me what the pizza man taught you.”

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