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“I hate you. I hate you I hate you.”
“Aw c’mon Cas…”
“No. Go away.”
“Cas…” Dean huffs out a breath, planting his hands on his hips. Castiel is curled up on the couch, a pint of ice cream tucked against his chest and a damp washcloth behind his neck. “It wasn’t even that bad,” Dean pouts. Castiel levels a glare at him, eyes slitted and nose scrunched up.
“That bad?! Dean my tongue is on fire!” Castiel shouts, waving his spoon at Dean’s face.
“Now you’re just being overdramatic,” Dean rolls his eyes.
TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER
“Cas you hungry?” Castiel looks up from the possible case on his laptop screen to find Dean standing in the doorway to the library.
“Are you offering to get me something?” Castiel replies and Dean nods. “Sure.” Dean turns away, headed for the kitchen. Castiel watches his retreating figure for a moment before going back to the article.
Straightening up from his hunched position, Castiel rubs at his eyes. Pushing back from the table, Castiel ambles down to the kitchen. He’s interested to see the progress Dean has made on their food. The scene he’s met with brings a small smile to Castiel’s lips. Dean whistles along to a tune only he can hear while he spreads condiments onto sandwiches. He looks up as Castiel enters the room, waving a knife at him in greeting.
“Want a beer?” Dean asks, placing the knife down and turning to the fridge. Castiel replies in the affirmative and sidles up to the counter, staring down at the sandwiches. To the naked eye, both look exactly the same and Castiel grabs one at random, taking a bite. Instantly tears spring to his eyes and a thousand tongues of fire lick the inside of Castiel’s mouth. The sandwich falls from his hands and on shaky legs, he stumbles over to the sink, gulping down water directly from the tap.
“Cas what the hell are you doing?” Dean’s voice distracts Castiel momentarily from the agony he’s experiencing at the moment. Turning on his heel, he rounds on the Winchester.
“What is on that thing?!” he exclaims, flinging a hand at the offending sandwich. Dean looks between the two and a sheepish look creeps onto his face.
“Uh… bologna, mayo, tomato, lettuce, cheese, hot sauce and jalapenos,” Dean lists, his voice growing softer and softer with each element to his sandwich. “You must have taken mine… yours doesn’t have the hot sauce or jalapenos,” Dean scratches the back of his neck. Castiel’s chest heaves, sweat pools at his brow and tears systematically leak from his eyes.
“Oh my god,” Castiel whispers, blinking rapidly. Dean hovers, hands fluttering around Castiel.
“Cas… I’m sorry…” he goes to pat Castiel’s shoulder but he ducks away.
“Don’t touch me.” Castiel brushes past him. Opening the door to the freezer, he finds Dean’s “secret” stash of ice cream and slams the door closed. Next he finds a spoon from the drawer, slamming it closed too, cutlery jangling around inside.
“Cas…” Dean tries and is levelled with a scathing gaze. Technically he did nothing wrong, but he’s not going to say anything but try and console the pained man. “You know I would never intentionally do this. Look! Yours.” Dean pulls apart the untouched sandwich, showing Castiel that there are in fact no hot chillies or sauce in sight. Nodding, Castiel leaves the room, Dean on his heels. “Do you accept my apology?” Dean tries again, jogging to keep up with Castiel’s brisk pace. He receives an eyeroll.
“I hate you.”
“Cas…”
“No. Stop.” Castiel rounds the corner into the bathroom. He places the ice cream by the basin and dampens a washcloth, and then he’s off to the living room. He heads straight to the couch, practically throwing himself into the cushions. Dean huffs, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
“Please…” Dean flops down beside him.
“I hate you. I hate you I hate you.”
“Aw c’mon Cas…”
“No. Go away.”
“Cas…” Dean huffs out a breath, planting his hands on his hips. Castiel curls up on the couch, the pint of ice cream tucked against his chest and the washcloth behind his neck. “It wasn’t even that bad,” Dean pouts. Castiel levels a glare at him, eyes slitted and nose scrunched up.
“That bad?! Dean my tongue is on fire!” Castiel shouts, waving his spoon at Dean’s face.
“Now you’re just being overdramatic,” Dean rolls his eyes. A blob of ice cream splats against Dean’s nose, startling a noise from him. “Cas!” He peals the dessert off, slurping it into his mouth. A grin stretches his lips and he looks over to find Castiel smirking happily. It’s then that he knows that Castiel doesn’t really hate him. “I really am sorry.”
“I know. Come here.” Castiel pulls Dean in by his shirt, planting ice cream-sticky kisses to Dean’s lips. The chocolate flavour mixing with the lingering hotness from the chillies.
When their lips part, Dean murmurs, “Huh… it was a bit warm,’ he licks his lips for emphasis. Another blob hits him in the middle of his forehead.