Work Text:
"Have fun visiting your boyfriend at work!" Sam calls out when Dean passes him on his way to the garage.
He doubles back to flip him off but doesn't linger long enough for Sam to notice he's wearing his favorite henley because, unfortunately, he's right. Dean is going to visit his boyfriend at work, like some kind of normal person. Granted, his boyfriend is an angel, his work is a ragtag heavenly militia squatting in a power plant, and Dean's visiting to drop off some magic books from their secret society bunker-house, but still. Visiting his boyfriend at work.
(The fact that said militia is camped out an hour and a half away is no matter; Cas comes back to the bunker whenever he can too, even though it takes him as long to get places as any human schmuck now. Dean called it his commute once and Cas just smiled. They're on the same page about this stuff.)
Hannah lets him in with the same look she always gives him: half polite, half disappointed like she hoped he might not show this time. Dean doesn't need a tour guide anymore, but she pushes on anyway, one step ahead as they weave through the power plant call center floor. A couple of the angels still squint when he passes, but whatever. Perks of dating the boss: none of them start shit.
Speaking of the boss, Dean catches his first glimpse of Cas as he often does: through the glass of his little office high atop the whatever. Cas has told him on more than one occasion (naked, usually, as much of their private time is spent) that he hates how on display it feels, but the angels like seeing him up there, keeping watch, planning shit. They miss God. Dean only blames them a little, both because of the daddy issues but also, well. Cas looks good in charge. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Gesturing confidently.
"Package for C. Angel," Dean calls out from the middle of the floor. "Anybody 'see' an angel?"
Hannah jolts to a stop, annoyed, and based on a cursory glance it's not winning him any favors with a couple other angels, but...
"Dean."
Cas stands at the railing for only a second before he's taking the stairs at a sedate but motivated pace. The smile on his face is wide enough Dean would worry about him splitting a lip if Dean wouldn't kiss him anyway. As is, he doesn't get a chance to set down the ancient file box in his arms before Cas is grabbing his face to do exactly that. This is his hello kiss: short, sweet, and absolutely stoked, one last little push at the end like he wants to kiss him again but can't bear to pull away first.
"Hello, my love," he says when they part, looking as pleased as his favorite emoji—the angel, because he's an asshole and he knows it.
"Hey." Dean hikes the box up between them, mostly to draw Cas's attention to it so they can get it out of the way. "One set of Enochian spellbooks, as ordered."
"Thank you." Cas takes the box and drops it on the nearest desk before kissing Dean again, always on the same page. They part when Hannah makes an obvious sound behind them, but Cas doesn't seem to notice, eyes still on Dean as he continues seamlessly, "You haven't eaten yet."
It's not a question, but Dean nods anyway. "Nope. Why, you got an opening in your schedule? Should I ask your secretary?"
Hannah is already glaring when he looks over at her. Hey, she started it.
"The next place is a diner," Cas says, because oh yeah, they have a list of nearby places they're methodically working through on days and nights like this. Whatever's close and open, Korean Barbecue and crowded coffee joints and pizza by the slice. Sitting elbow to elbow on park benches with street tacos, people-watching like they belong there.
The last diner they hit had a jukebox. Cas had spilled piles of quarters out of his pockets he swore he hadn't prepared and they spent the afternoon with him picking things at random, Dean knowing the story behind each track. They were there so long Hannah had to call on a real phone, Cas ignoring prayers just to watch Dean illustrate the Fleetwood Mac love polyhedral in the syrup left on his plate. That was a good day.
(Sometimes they skip the list entirely and end up sneaking away for a nooner, because if everyone's gonna look at Dean like the boy toy, he's sure as hell gonna reap the rewards. Then he listens to Cas complain about herding angels like cats from where he's draped across his chest, Cas's voice vibrating pleasantly through his skull as he describes Shariel's feud with the printer. Those are good days too—though, he's half embarrassed to say, not de facto better than the rest.)
"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" Dean ducks in, he can't help it, to kiss Cas's cheek real quick, just to feel him smile underneath it. He can't help it. Cas's hand is so warm against Dean's ribs, under his jacket. "Lead the way, boss man."
Cas nods, quietly proud, like Dean has picked the right answer and not just responded the way he always does—like he was ever gonna turn down midday waffles and kicking Cas back under the table. It's more a reaction to the kiss. He doesn't underestimate Dean so much as still not totally believe this can be real, which Dean gets, but seriously. He's not completely useless. He's here to take his boyfriend to lunch, after all. He ain't afraid of no PDA.
To prove it, Dean doesn't even roll his eyes as he grabs Cas's hand, in front of— Well, not God and everyone, but pretty damn close.
"You had waffles with whipped cream yet?" He starts to drag Cas backwards out of the room like they don't all know Cas can't be moved if he doesn't want to be. "You haven't lived til you've had a waffle with more whipped cream than batter."
"You're lucky I rebuilt you from scratch when I pulled you out of Hell," Cas says, nowhere as serious as the words should be. "Otherwise you'd die of heart failure within the year."
"Wouldn't want that."
Hannah is there, holding Cas's coat out. She doesn't say anything when Dean takes it instead, a resigned, almost amused look in her eyes. They understand each other more than they'd like.
"No, I'm very fond of your heart."
"Alright, Casanova, get a move on."
So yeah, Dean spends three hours out of every few days driving out to take his boyfriend to a lunch he doesn't eat so he can kiss him in front of his employees that would rather they both be saving the world. All things considered, their version of normal is pretty good. Better than most, Dean would say. Worth every second.