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“What’s with the sour puss?” Dean grumbled as he helped Sam unload the groceries Cas had bought in the bunker’s kitchen. He’d been happy just a split second before. How could Cas always make him go from one extreme to the other so quickly?
“I don’t like when you use that word,” Cas said, methodically lining up the boxes he pulled from a bag in order from tallest to shortest in one of the cabinets.
Dean made a face as he looked at the back of his head. What word? He cursed around Cas all the time and sometimes he frowned, sometimes he smiled, and sometimes he didn’t react at all. He didn’t think the guy cared one way or another about “bad words.” And he hadn’t even cursed just now.
“What word?” he asked when Cas turned around, ignoring the raised eyebrow Sam was sending him in warning about his tone.
“Awesome,” Cas replied quietly, fingering a box of whole wheat pasta.
Dean did a double take to the brown pasta. And that was something they would have to discuss later. Not even Sam tried to pull stealth healthy eating habits on him anymore. Or did he? Dean glanced at Sam askance who looked surprised by the look.
Dean focused back on Cas. “What’s wrong with awesome?” he said, trying to use the “calm” voice he’d been practicing since Cas had started living with them.
“You, and pretty much everyone else in the English speaking world, use it incorrectly.”
“Yeah, that’s nice coming from the illegal alien over there.” Cas looked up with a frown and Sam had a hand on his hip now; Dean didn’t even want to see his face.
“I think I know how to speak my own human language in my own freakin' country.”
“Awesome,” Cas said, facing Dean and giving him the full brunt of his piercing blue eyes that had not faded a wit with his lost grace, “means that something is terrifyingly amazing. It’s something that one would feel in the presence of an ang—of God. It does not mean that cherry pie is a tasty dessert.”
Dean had a variety of options for reactions: anger, annoyance, boredom at the linguistics lesson. He decided to go with snarky.
“Clearly you’ve never had cherry pie.”
Cas huffed and turned away to put the pasta box in the cabinet. Sam stuck his head behind the refrigerator door as he put something away, probably so Dean wouldn’t see his bitchface. Dean crossed over to the counter with the pie and popped the plastic lid. He jerked open the drawer with the utensils and snatched out a fork. After digging out a large, dripping piece of crust and filling with the utensil, he marched over to Cas who was watching him approach with irritation flickering in his eyes.
What happened next Dean would always claim was due to some sort of supernatural possession. He stopped directly in front of Cas and rather than holding out the forkful for him to sample the dessert for himself, he put it in his own mouth.
The fork clattered on the counter, drawing Sam’s attention. He started and didn’t know if he should stay or go. Dean held Cas behind the neck and was giving him a messy, cherry filled kiss that Sam was pretty certain involved two separate tongues. Sam was on the verge of edging out of the kitchen, his ears burning with happy embarrassment, but then they broke the kiss.
Cas had his eyes shut and Dean was panting slightly. Cas licked his lips.
“How was that?” Dean asked.
“Awesome,” Cas breathed.