You and Castiel sit on the bunker’s steps just outside the war room, the soft hum of the overhead lights a quiet backdrop to the stillness between you. There’s a rare calm in the air; no looming hunt, no immediate apocalypse, just space to breathe. He’s beside you, posture stiff like always, but his gaze is far away, thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, voice low but steady, “about the time I was… human.”

You turn toward him, curious. “What do you miss about it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes flicking to the floor like the answer’s hiding in the stone. “Taste,” he finally says. “I miss being able to taste food.”

That makes you smile. “Any food in particular?”

Cas tilts his head slightly, brows furrowed in thought like he’s scanning through a long-forgotten archive. “Peanuts,” he says at last. “I liked peanuts. They made my mouth feel… tingly.”

You blink. “Tingly?”

He nods, serious as ever. “Yes. They had a strange effect. My lips would swell slightly, and my throat would feel… tight.”

You stare at him, half-shocked, half-amused. “Cas… you were probably mildly allergic to peanuts.”

His brow furrows. “Oh.” There’s a long pause before you both burst into laughter; yours loud and warm, his confused but softening as he realizes the humor in it.

“You liked them?” you ask, still chuckling.

“I found the sensation… stimulating,” he says with a faint smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It was a unique experience.”

You shake your head, nudging his shoulder gently. “Only you would miss a near allergic reaction as a fond human memory.” He glances at you, and for a moment, there’s something warm in his gaze; something human still lingering beneath all that celestial weight.

“Perhaps,” he says. “But it was mine.”