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“That can’t be edible.” Castiel’s head is tilted to the side, warily eyeing the deep-fried twinkie that Dean holds out to him.
Dean shrugs his shoulders and withdraws the offer, taking a massive bite of it himself, instead. “Your loss, angel boy.” He grins around a sticky mouthful of cream and cake and grease and wiggles his eyebrows.
“You are a caveman,” the angel says. He reaches out and swipes his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip, coming away with a thick smear of cream. He brings the offending substance to his nose and sniffs it before the dark pink of his curious tongue darts out and cleans it away.
Dean’s mouth goes slack for a moment. Castiel meets his eyes, and the grin that crosses his face is entirely one he learned from Dean. “I will never understand you humans and your obsession with sugar,” he deadpans, “but I suppose I could get used to this.”
“High praise coming from you, Cas,” Dean says around his food, finally remembering to chew.
Sam passes them in the crowd, then skids to a halt when he notices them standing there, a giant stuffed monkey under one arm. “Skee Ball!” he exclaims. “They have skee ball, guys!” His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining with excitement. He rushes off before either of them can respond.
“Can’t take him anywhere,” Dean says.
“Like a dog off its leash,” Cas agrees.
A moment passes between them, the elated screams of children and electronic beeps and whistles of the rides around them fading, almost, as they look at each other and grin. They’re here, really here, at a state fair with nothing to hunt, no one to run from. It’s a beautiful, fragile thing, and it almost doesn’t feel real.
“You ever been on a Ferris wheel?” Dean asks, breaking the silence, even though he knows the answer.
“Never,” the angel responds, big blue eyes sparkling with the flashbulb stutter of the lights of the tilt-a-whirl across the plaza from them.
Dean grabs his hand and Cas goes easy, ready to discover this simple human pleasure for himself.
At the top of the wheel, the mechanism pauses, suspending them in midair. At some point during the ride up, their hands must have tangled together, because now Cas’ thumb is brushing absently over the back of Dean’s knuckles. The other half of Dean’s fried twinkie sits forgotten on its paper plate in his lap.
Cas leans over, watches the multicolor whirlwind of light and music below them, then turns. Dean is simply watching him, a nervous smile at the corner of his mouth. ”Do you like it?” He asks.
“Mmm,” Castiel nods. “Thank you for showing me.”
He readjusts until he’s fully facing Dean, whose face is bathed in shades of flashing yellow and orange and green. He reaches out and cups Dean’s rainbow cheek in his hand.
“Give me some sugar,” he says, and Dean looks down at the fried monstrosity in his lap for just a second, but Cas drags his face up to meet his gaze. He grins playfully and shakes his head. “Not that sugar.”
Dean’s laugh gets lost between them, and his mouth is warm and sweet and easy, and Cas could definitely get used to this.
The Ferris wheel starts to move again, but neither of them seems to notice.