Though it was apparently impossible for him to get intoxicated all the way as he once had, Castiel felt that perhaps there was just enough in him to not see where taking a meal with Meg was a bad idea. He had no need to eat, but then again neither did she. Not really.
He eyed her form curiously, wondering why it took an aesthetically pleasing shape when stretched. "Very well. I've had pancakes before. Once. It was the day before Sam confronted the devil."
He also remembered having liked them. The maple syrup had been sweet. Unlike anything else he'd tasted up to that point. The pancakes however had been burned, but Dean had made them. Cas hadn't pointed out his friend's shortcomings when it came to cooking.