Word Count: 702
Genre: Gen, teen!chesters
Summary: Rule number one for hunters: always use your resources efficiently. Or, Dean cooks dinner. That is all.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine.
Dean snapped out of his daydream, his mouth watering. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to use the new skills he’d picked up in Home Ec to make dinner for himself and Sammy. He’d only taken the class because the only other one with slots available was Drama, and anything was better than that, but it was actually turning out pretty good. Homemade food every lesson. The reward was worth the embarrassment of taking Home Ec.
He opened his notebook to the smudged and food stained page with the recipe on it, and propped it up on the dirty windowsill. Macaroni Cheese, from scratch. You couldn’t get much better than that. And the best bit was there were hardly any ingredients. He could just make it with what was in the cupboard, which was a definite plus considering how much money they had left, and it would be ready by the time Sam was finished geek-club.
He turned the oven on to pre-heat, and checked the ingredient list. Okay, a bag of macaroni. He checked the cupboard. Well, there was half a bag of spaghetti. That would do. But that probably wouldn’t be enough, especially if they wanted leftovers. He checked the next cupboard over. Jackpot! Three small potatoes, starting to sprout. He washed them and peeled them, cutting them small. They would work fine. After all, potatoes and pasta were essentially the same thing, if you came right down to it. The potatoes would probably take longer than the pasta, but he figured if he baked the crap out of them for a couple of hours, it would work out in the end. He put them all in a pot of boiling water, and turned his attention to the next section of the recipe.
3 Tbsp butter
1/3 C flour
½ tsp mustard powder
2 C milk
2 C grated cheese
He opened the fridge. To his surprise, half an onion sat on the top shelf, just waiting to be used. The cut side was kind of strange and wrinkly, but that could always be cut off. There was butter there too – Dad liked it on his sandwiches, so they almost never went without. He shook the milk container. Damn, that wasn’t two cups. Oh well, he could always top it up with water. He opened the container and sniffed cautiously. Maybe not ideal, but still usable. He grabbed the stump of cheese and four slices of processed cheddar, adding them to his pile.
It wasn’t even worth looking for mustard powder or flour. What the hell kind of people had those lying around? The flour was just for thickening anyway. There was an egg in the fridge. That would probably work. It needed using anyway. Now, what could he use for flavour in place of the mustard and the second cup of cheese?
After much searching, he came up with a wilted floret of broccoli (he could put that in Sam’s bit), two slices of ham, and a small jar of chilli powder that he found in his Dad’s hunting supplies. He shrugged. Might as well put them in.
He rescued the pasta and potatoes from boiling over and drained them, emptying the pot into a casserole dish left behind by the previous occupant of the house. He dumped the butter and onions into the pot and set to work making the sauce.
An hour and a half later, Dean pulled the meal from the oven. It was a bit blackened on top, but it smelled awesome. Even better than the one they had made in class.
Sam wandered in, fresh from putting his bag away after drama club, and wrinkled his nose, peering into the dish as Dean placed it on the table. “What. Is. That?”
Dean dished it out onto two plates. “Macaroni Cheese.” He took a big bite, sighing with pleasure.
Sam looked at it, prodding it with his fork. “I’ll pass.”
Dean shrugged. “Whatever,” he said through a mouthful of the most delicious macaroni cheese ever made. If Sam didn’t recognise a masterpiece, that was Sam’s problem. All it meant was more for Dean. He could live with that.