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Crowley had started placing his potted plant collection throughout the bunker. He loved seeing the slight quiver of leaves when he walked into a room.
He was eyeing a fern that was developing brown spots as he shredded the block of cheddar. Half humming, half singing: "I want to ride my bicycle, hm hm hm hmm my bike…” He moved to rinse the box grater but instead brandished it at the fern, leering at the trembling plant. "I want those spots gone. Tomorrow! Or else…you know what comes next.”
Dean and Crowley were perched on a bench, munching on tacos and joking around. Dean reached for sour cream and swiped a tear out of his eye after a particularly hearty laugh. "Dude, I didn't even know you had a car. The tapes hardly last two weeks before Freddie Mercury commandeers them? That’s just crazy!”
Crowley smirked at him. “The only times I've not suffered through Queen is when I've had the displeasure of riding in your death trap and when I was forced into Castiel’s…does that thing even count as a car?” He paused and tilted his head. “Anyway, both of our ‘rides’ played a vital role in halting the Apocalypses. Apocalypsi? You know what the Impala did but you better believe me, my Bentley saved the world, baby.”
Dean twitched an eyebrow. “I've gotta hear this load of crap.” He heard heavy footfalls heralding the impending arrival of his little brother. “Hold it, I wanna play a prank on Sammy. Hand me the habanero sauce.”
The giant ambled in and set his laptop bag down. “What’s for dinner guys?”
A taco was thrust in Sam’s face. “Do these tacos taste funny to you?”
Sam’s eyes widened in horror and he sprang into action, knocking the stuffed tortilla out of Dean’s hand. “Don’t eat it! Not again! No!” He lunged at the table and swept everything onto the floor with both arms. “How much did you eat? Tell me!” Sam wrested his brother off the bench and vigorously started the Heimlich maneuver, heedless of Dean’s frantic attempts to escape.
Castiel walked in and gaped at the spectacle. Dean was sandwiched between the trestle table and Sam, flushed and gasping as the younger Winchester continued to thrust, a look of desperate determination upon his countenance. The angel’s phone rang. It was the heat of the moment, telling me what your heart meant. Heeeaaat of the moment, shone in your eyes.