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Castiel is in the library, immersed in a monograph on the oral histories of werewolf packs, when Dean rushes in. He's pink-cheeked and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. Cas is on instant alert. He's set his book aside and is halfway out of his chair by the time Dean comes to a stop next to him.
"Dean. What's going on? Are you okay? Is there a case?"
"Pfft, nah. Nothing like that. I just-- Can you come here for a sec? Wanna show you something."
"Of course."
He expects to follow Dean further into the Bunker, so he's caught a bit flat-footed when Dean turns on his heel and heads towards the stairs that lead up to the roof. By the time he catches up, they're outside. Dean is standing in front of a cozy tableau, arms extended in a gesture of welcome. A pair of sturdy Adirondack chairs flank a small wooden table which holds an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket. There are thick plaid blankets draped over each chair, and there's an open cooler on the ground between them, stuffed full of ice and brown bottles.
"Ta-daaah!" Dean is grinning, proud and pleased. "I found all this outdoorsy stuff in a storeroom! It was a bitch getting the chairs up here but they look great, don't they?"
Cas can't help but nod. "This is lovely, Dean. You did all this for me?"
"Yeah, babe. I thought we could have some dinner, watch the sunset. Grab a seat!"
They settle into the chairs and wrap the blankets over their laps. Dean opens the basket with a flourish and uncovers an impressive spread. He pours vegetable soup out of a thermos into two small bowls and hands one to Cas along with a chunk of crusty French bread, torn roughly from the loaf.
"I used up the last of the veggies from the garden for the soup, what do you think?"
"It's very nice. The turnips add a bit of sweetness."
After the soup, Dean reveals fat slices of homemade quiche. He plates them up, then adds generous piles of mixed greens tossed with homemade vinaigrette.
"It's a Quiche Lorraine, but I made it with extra bacon to balance out the salad."
"Of course you did."
Along with the meal, Dean has brought out a six of Cas's favorite microbrew lager. He angles his boyfriend's glass just so to pour one out with the perfect amount of creamy froth on top.
"Cheers, babe."
"Na zdorovie, beloved."
Dean's eyes darken a bit at Cas's use of Russian, a flagrant poke at his language kink. Cas smirks and sips his beer.
They enjoy their food while the sun makes its inexorable way towards the horizon. The sky burns orange, then red, then a dark violet. Dean hands him a small Mason jar and a spoon.
"Peach cobbler."
"My favorite."
"I know."
Cas gives him a soft smile and digs into his jar.
After they finish their dessert, they pack everything up. Cas grabs the basket, Dean grabs the cooler, and they each take a blanket.
"This was wonderful, Dean. Thank you."
"No problem, sweetheart. We should do this again sometime."
"Definitely. Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."