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"Best cheeseburger in three counties, my ass." Dean mumbled through the last overcooked bite.
He and Sam had just finished hunting a shifter through the better part of Southern California, and it had been almost a week since they’d eaten more than convenience store sandwiches and jerky. At least it was hard to mess up fries. And even better, the last time he had passed through here Dean discovered this diner had apple pie that was a dead ringer for the one his mother used to make. He may or may not have decided they’d tackle the shifter as an excuse to stop here.
"They make a mean salad though." Sam crunched happily through the huge bowl, and Dean wondered yet again how a sasquatch like Sam could survive on rabbit food, especially after the week they’d had.
Dean heard the familiar fluttering to his right, and the warmth of a body pressed against him from hip to shoulder in the suddenly too-small booth. He tensed, inhaling the cool earthy scent that was pure Cas- rain, grass, the crisp air of an autumn afternoon.
“Dammit Cas, leave room for Jesus.” Dean sputtered, scooting to put some distance between them.
"Hey Cas," Sam said, the words muffled a little by lettuce.
"Hello Sam, Dean."
Castiel’s voice was somehow more gravelly than usual, or maybe it was just Dean’s imagination. He tried to ignore that, and slow down his thundering pulse. It was so much harder to keep his cool when Cas popped up that close. The guy just had no regard for personal space.
Their waitress, a motherly brunette with shadows under her eyes, chose that moment to bring over three dessert menus and refill Sam's coffee. "Can I get you boys something sweet?" she asked.
"A whole apple pie to go, and a slice a la mode," Dean said quickly, not even sparing the menu a glance.
Sam rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to the list of desserts. "I'll have a slice of carrot cake, please."
Dean scoffed. The kid even wanted vegetables in his dessert.
"Anything for you, sugar?" she asked Castiel.
He tilted his head and looked at Dean. "What is angel food cake?”
The waitress looked at him strangely, and Dean chuckled. "He'll have a slice of that."
"With strawberries or—" she began, but Sam cut her off.
"Strawberries are just fine. Could you do extra whipped cream?" He flashed her his dimpled smile, and she nodded and took the empty plates back to the kitchen, eyebrows still raised.
Dean glared at Sam. Whatever he was trying to pull, Dean doubted it was innocent.
"I do not require sustenance, you both know this." Castiel said. There was an edge to his voice, and he looked vaguely nervous.
Dean bumped his shoulder, grinning. "Come on man, live a little. You’ll love it."
There was something so endearing about the angel who had spent millenia watching earth, but was still clueless. He was almost childlike sometimes, until the warrior-of-Heaven switch flipped. Then he was—
Nope, not going down that road.
The waitress returned in time to save Dean from himself, balancing three plates and a box on a tray, setting the desserts in front of their respective owners. The warm smell of cinnamon wafted over the table. Sam's carrot cake was moist and dense with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting and the ice cream was just starting to melt over Dean's pie, but Castiel's was by far the most appealing of the three. Strawberry slices were heaped onto the cake, a mountain of whipped cream rested on top, and somehow it didn't tip over when she set it down.
She handed Dean the pie box and the check, but his eyes were glued to Cas, who had picked up his spoon and swiped some whipped cream off the top. Dean pulled out his wallet, fumbling for a card and still staring. Cas darted his pink tongue out to lick the spoon, his mouth curling in a rare smile, eyes sliding closed. He hummed, a soft, surprised sound.
Dean dropped Reginald Chesterton’s credit card.
"Uh, sorry" he stammered, lunging to pick it up and handing it to her. His eyes were wide; a blush crept up his cheeks.
She smiled knowingly, and left. Sam snorted.
Dean returned his attention to Cas, who hadn't noticed a thing.
The whipped cream was half gone, and a speck rested on Cas's lip. Dean wanted to lick that speck, wanted to slide his tongue past those lush lips and taste him, surely the dessert would be so much sweeter on the angel's tongue—
Dean gave his head a tiny shake, as though he could work those thoughts loose and send them flying from his brain. It hadn’t worked before, but he’d never been so desperate as he was now.
"I like this. It's…sweet." Castiel said slowly, weighing the word.
"The white stuff is whipped cream. Try the cake with a strawberry." Sam said, smirking at Dean. He was beyond tired of watching Dean try to fight the way he obviously felt about Cas. If this helped him do something about it, Sam would take whatever bitching followed without complaint.
Cas looked at Dean, who nodded his encouragement, afraid to open his mouth for the first time in his life. He didn’t know what would come out if he did.
Cas pressed the spoon into the cake, cutting off the thick corner and sliding it through the whipped cream, sticking strawberry slices to it. He closed his eyes and took a bite of the whole mess, letting out another quiet moan of appreciation.
Dean was dying. He had to be, with the way his heart pounded in his chest. It was much too warm in the diner, crowded in the seat next to Cas, thighs pressing together again. It was like a fire, a train wreck. No matter how much he wanted to get away, he remained there staring with his mouth slightly open, cheeks pink and eyes bright. Dean was the proverbial moth being drawn closer and closer to the flame. He was going to kill Sam.
Castiel swallowed the bite and said, "So this is what humans think angels eat?"
"No!" Dean blurted. His blush deepened, and he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "People just…describe it as heavenly. Because it tastes so good. Understand?" Dean's voice was quiet, lacking its usual bravado.
Castiel nodded seriously. "Are you ill, Dean? You're very warm, like you are afflicted with fever." Castiel placed two fingers on Dean's forehead, intending to heal him, but felt no sickness in his friend's body.
Instead Castiel saw Dean's immediate thoughts, which just happened to be how badly Dean wanted to lunge across the table and lick the whipped cream off Cas's lips, and then… other parts of his anatomy.
Confusion, then understanding flared in those blue eyes, bright and clear.
Reckless with the knowledge that he’d been found out, Dean didn’t even try to stop himself from doing exactly what he’d pictured. He leaned over, flicking his tongue over the fleck of whipped cream on Cas's upper lip, before pressing their mouths together firmly.
Cas froze, shocked and unsure. Until Dean cupped the angel's neck and twisted his fingers gently in Cas's hair, drawing out a tiny shy groan. That was all it took for Cas to melt, suddenly kissing him back fiercely, all soft lips and hot tongue. Dean knew he was dying now because this couldn't be real, couldn't be happening to him. Cas laced his fingers with Dean's free hand and just as Dean started nibbling his lip, they vanished with a whoosh of wings.
Their waitress had just started toward the table, Dean's credit card in hand when Dean jumped Cas, and before she got halfway there they were just gone.
Sam grinned as he took the card from her, tucking a twenty under the edge of his plate and making his way to the door. He would rather not have seen Dean and Cas making out, but was happy it finally happened. They’d been dancing around each other for ages.
The smile slid off his face when he got to the parking lot, and realized that Dean had the keys to the Impala.