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"Will you hurry up? We're going to be late." Castiel was trying not to pace. He'd been told that was a habit that induced anxiety in those around him, and he was trying to be respectful. Of course, there was no one currently around him, which was sort of the whole problem.
"Dean!" Castiel turned around and ran directly into his boyfriend's (rather toned) body with a resounding "Oof."
"Heya Cas." Dean said softly with a quiet, crinkly smile.
"Hello Dean." This was his favorite Dean. Sure the brash, bold, let's be honest here, annoying Dean was fun, as was the sexy Dean who thrilled in making Cas squirm under his touch, but this Dean? The Dean full of soft smiles and warm embraces who held Castiel like he was the most precious thing in the entire world? That was the man he fell in love with.
Even if he was going to make them late.
"We're late."
"We're really not," Dean said as he moved around Castiel and into the Kitchen.
Castiel huffed, partly at being rebuked but partly because Dean's ass looked particularly good in his grubby "relaxing" jeans. Prying his eyes away from said ass currently bent over and scrounging in the fridge, Castiel started to pace. He tried, dammit.
"You're doing the thing," Dean said, repressing a laugh. He was carrying a smallish white box in his hands now, and there was a tenseness to his shoulders that wasn't there before.
"I'm sorry. I know today is your thing, but, well, you care about it so much so now I care about it." Castiel stopped pacing and adjusted his favorite "dorky" trench coat. "I'm absurd. I know."
Dean put the box on the counter and gently grabbed Castiel by the lapels. "Hey. You're not absurd. I think it's sweet how much you care." Dean brushed his fingers across Castiel's scruffy jaw and lifted his chin to meet his lips. Dean was warm and tasted vaguely of that stupid bubblegum toothpaste he insisted was for "kids of all ages Cas!" Castiel melted against his boyfriend. Who needed legs, when you had two perpetually flannel coated limbs to hold you up?
Castiel pouted when Dean pulled away. The kiss was far too short for his liking.
"What?" Dean asked with a cocky grin. "We're running late."
Castiel tilted his head and gave his best "I'm through with your shit" glare. But, of course, Dean had become immune to it over the years. It just doesn't hit the same way when you've seen each other in pink satin panties.
"Come on then." Dean grabbed the white box and his keys out of the junk bowl. "You wouldn't want to deprive the Harvest Festival of their number one, blue-ribbon apple pie, now would you, Cas?"
"You haven't won anything yet." Cas gently reminded him as he smoothed out the wrinkled lapels of his coat.
"Have a little faith Cas." Dean said with a wink as he walked out the door towards the '67 Impala in the driveway.
"In you?" Castiel reverently said as he locked the door to their home. "Always."