It had been a week since Castiel arrived in Oakdell and that was one week he'd been human. A week. He'd been surviving, although there were moments where he stole Meg's power thanks to what was going on in this town and he supposed that changed the definition of his success at making it through a week as a human. Most humans didn't have that chance, this much he knew and that kept him from thinking he'd been too successful yet.
He avoided getting hurt (aside from picking up something when it was too hot, because he was used to being able to handle objects of any temperature and it not harm his flesh), hadn't died and didn't land himself in any trouble. But he also had yet to face the Winchesters and that in itself filled him with a sense of dread. Or, what he was slowly coming to learn as something that was called dread. When he'd last seen them, he'd nearly killed Dean and taken off with the angel tablet, was unable to heal Sam and then all of the angels in Heaven fell. He still was unaware of how that hadn't yet happened for the versions of them present in Oakdell.
Having Meg with him, that sent that dread away for a while. She was just as out of sorts with his being human as he was, but she helped him to the best of her ability. That much, he was grateful for. He wasn't taking her for granted, assuming she'd be there always. He felt it was safer having her with him, even if he couldn't do anything to protect her really, but it kept her from getting attacked again. It might be known he was here, but she was the only one with his room number. It kept her safe.
After many a millennia of not sleeping, Castiel found it difficult at first to adapt to needing to sleep, but over the course of the week he began to ease more into it and was sleeping anywhere between eight or more hours. He read that somewhere, that humans needed at least eight hours of sleep and that made him do his best to keep up with that.
That was, until he heard the movement in the kitchen and he was quick to wake up and head in there. He and Meg had tried various experiments with food over the last few days, but he didn't think she would take up another so soon.
"Are you... cooking pig flesh and aborted chickens?" His question took the literal view of what bacon and eggs actually were, as he looked at her with his confused puppy look for extra measure. He still noted that hint of smoke present in the room, but it was so deeply embedded in the apartment now, he didn't pay it any extra mind aside from not breathing in too deeply.