The demanding life of a teenager [Destiel AU]

Say yes

As Dean's warm breath met the cold window, it instantly turned to a dim circle of fog on the surface. Dean raised a finger, starting to draw in it, but soon sighed in defeat and rubbed it all away with the sleeve of his white shirt. It had supposed to be a chicken, but turned out looking more like a pig possessed by Satan. He'd never been good at drawing.

The rain was pouring down outside the apartment, painting the window with drops competing to run the fastest down the glass. Behind the racing raindrops, Dean could see people running around, trying to get to where they were headed as fast as possible – preferably before they got completely soaked. Most failed miserably though.

On the other side of the street, Dean noticed a girl whom had obviously given up staying dry altogether. She wasn't even wearing rain boots or anything, but was shambling through the puddles nonetheless, as if she thought she was dressed in a dry-suit. A stone throw away from her, a few kids were jumping up and down in another puddle, laughing hysterically as they splashed mucky water at each other.

Dean scoffed, but his lips quirked up into a smile. He had fond memories of running around in puddles himself, from back when he was a kid. He'd thought it was one of the funniest things in the world.

There was a ping! from the oven, the sound cutting through the apartment to tell Dean that his pie was done, the 40 minutes already having passed while he had been busy fixing other things.

Dean teared himself away from the windowsill and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was halfway connected to the living room: only a counter separated them, giving the cook some privacy from the ones in the next room. He had thought it was a good solution when he had bought the place. He still did, to be honest. It was not too open, not too closed.

When Dean opened the oven door, the delicious smell of pie hit him right in the face (along with a heat wave which made his face turn into a series of grimaces, making him look as possessed by Satan as that poor pig). He had scented it earlier - all the way from the other side of the apartment - leaking out of the oven, but now that he finally had the door wide open, he let it all out and it hit him like a heavenly wave of smell. He could feel his mouth watering already.

With hands covered by well-used oven mitts full of burns and dough remnants, he took the pie out of the oven and placed it gingerly on the kitchen counter. He cut a small slice and judged it done, leaving it to cool in peace. Then he leaned around the counter throw a glance at the clock hanging above the fireplace (which he had only used like half an eternity lighting up). He smiled approvingly to himself. Perfect timing.

After having misjudged the pie from being cooler than it was - gaining some small burns on his fingertips in the process (but he was a badass and didn't care about those the slightest) - Dean used the oven mitts again to bring the pie out into the living room, and place it on the dinner table. He had to push away the bowl of salad with only his elbows in order to do so, but he eventually managed to make enough room for it on the table. Then he stepped back, placed his fists on his hips, and admired his work – his masterpiece - proudly.

Dean knew he was a good cook, so he was sure the food would be a success. It was the way he'd set the table that he was worried about. Was it too little? Was it too much? Maybe he should remove the lighted candles he had placed in the middle of the table - right next to an expensive bottle of red wine - with flames flickering from Dean's rapid nervous breaths.

No.

He mentally shook his head. No, it was not too much. It was perfect. It had to be. He had spent too much time planning every single detail for it not to be perfect. If there had been a better solution, he would have thought of it before now. He would have thought of it sometime over the past weeks, when he had thought this through repeatedly, making sure everything would be just right. No. Changing things last minute was never a good idea. This was perfect as it was.