18: [Action/Video] Touch Me

[dashboardlite]

A video camera, recording, is propped up on Dean's bedside table, giving any viewers a wide frame of his torso and head.  A bottle of Scotch sits next to it, half-empty.  The Doors' Touch Me is playing in the background, fairly quietly as Dean's music goes.  He's thumbing through an automobile magazine, predictably, and humming along (a wee bit off-key).  The hunter snorts when he reaches a particularly hilarious page in his reading material.  "Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me," He rolls his eyes.  "Goddamn horoscopes in my car mags?  Better be a damn good one about Aquariu-"

Dean stops - glancing down at his watch, then the magazine, then his watch again - and makes a face.

"Oh."

His eyebrows raise in surprise.

"So, uh."  He chuckles a little nervously at the camera, quirking a crooked grin.  "Looks like I'm twenty-nine today.  Time flies, huh?"

Comments

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

He lifts his head from his scintillating magazine - really, it's almost torture to read this shit when he doesn't have his baby here - and quirks a smile.

"Because, my nerdy friend," Dean grabs the bottle, lifting it in a mock toast before taking a swig. He coughs at the spicy liquor and chuckles a little. "It's my birthday."

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"Oh. Happy birthday, then." He attempts a smile; it looks awkward on him, but not terrible.

There's a pause while Cas holds the smile stiffly, then asks, "...should I be drinking too?" Is it a birthday rule or something?

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean sort of stares at him for a minute, lips pursed, then breaks into a laugh. "Dude, it's a birthday - It ain't a funeral. And it's not..." He looks at the bottle of Scotch guiltily. He really shouldn't be drinking. His liver will kill him before the goddamn Operator does again.

"...you don't have to. I figure I'll get something from the kitchen to celebrate."

Dean snaps the magazine shut and tosses it to the foot of his bed, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. "You wanna come? I was thinkin' of makin' some pie."

While he could ask for some, it's never quite the same as homemade, and it's one of the few things he could probably wrangle up on his own.

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"Uh. Sure." Making pie sounds as good as anything. "You know how to prepare food?" Castiel's face is straight, earnest as ever; Dean will never know that last bit is a joke, even if Cas is the only one amused by it.

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I know how to, uh...roast...things."

Mostly set things on fire. Cooking's hard, okay? It takes time and effort, which Dean usually has in scant supply. Here, though, he can at least managed a damn pie.

"Just...yeah. I'll manage. C'mon, Clarence." Dean picks up his room key and spins it around on his finger, waiting in the doorway.

"You comin'?"

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"I do not believe pies are roasted," remarks Cas, gravely. "But I will accompany you. Perhaps I can assist." Or at least put out fires.

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean grunts in affirmation, wondering if he should regret inviting Castiel long on his baking adventure. The angel seems genuinely interested, so there can't be any harm, right?

...right?

He leads the meandering way down to the kitchen, pulling out a few bowls and spoons and other things that look appropriate for making pie, and go through the inventory in his head. A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Dean had made pie. He could remember the ingredients. Hopefully.

"We need, uh...sugar...some green apples, butter, flour...cinnamon," Dean thinks harder before adding, "...eggs."

[action]

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"And are there not books of directions for preparing food?" Cas adds, looking around the kitchen he's never been in before, "Or do you know how to make one without it?" It's rather like a ritual, he supposes - the right ingredients, the right arm-motions, and out the other end comes your desired result. If all goes well, and demons don't interrupt.

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Making an apple pie is one of the few things Dean has made sure to remember. While he can appreciate the pie of someone else, it's never quite the same as doing it yourself and savoring the results.

"Nah," He replies, pulling the things he needs out of one of the magical cupboards, setting it all on the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. "I mean, there are, but we're not gonna use one. Grab some aprons, will ya, Iron Chef?"

[action]

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Luckily Dean gestures toward the items in question, or Cas would be stuck wondering what an apron is. He fetches them, bringing them back to Dean and proffering one to him. It's pink and has frills along the bottom edge. Cas thinks it will look nice on Dean, especially with his green eyes.

"Should I... assist?" he asks, eying the pile of mysterious items on the counter.

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean grapples to one side, taking the garment in his hands distractedly as he pores over the ingredients he has at his disposal. Only moments later, when he's slipping the loop around his neck and starting to tie the back, does Dean realize exactly what heinous object he's wearing.

He nearly has a spasm pulling it off.

"Aw, dude, c'mon," He scowls at the apron in all its sinister, pink frilliness before foisting it onto Cas, taking the black apron instead. "I'm not wearing pink," Dean mumbles, putting the black one on and pushing some ingredients aside to sprinkle flour on the countertop.

[action]

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Cas is a little disappointed Dean doesn't leave the pink apron on. It really did look nice. He laugh inwardly at his reaction, though, smiling a tiny smile and mentally tallying himself: 1, Dean:0.

He dons the pink apron himself, feeling he looks quite dignified in it. He smooths the front down, coming to stand near Dean, leaning sideways into his personal space to see what he's doing with the flour. Cas must observe and learn. From close-up.

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Grumbling to himself, strangely suspicious that Castiel is amused at his bitching, Dean mixes eggs, flour, and water in a bowl before picking the dough up and smacking it down on the flour-covered countertop. White powder puffs out onto his apron, and Dean gets An Idea.

"...hey, Cas."

He turns, picking up a handful of flour, and releases said handful at a relatively harmless velocity, sending it toward Castiel's face.

Dean: 1, Cas: 1.

[action]

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...what.

Castiel is very grateful for his vessel's quick reflexes, thanks to which he does not have flour in his eyes. He suspects that might be somewhat uncomfortable. As it is, he's blinking white dusty eyelashes as he fixes Dean with a glare. This simply will not do.

Calmly, exhaling and sending a small puff of flour out of his nose, he reaches out and grabs his own handful of the white stuff, weighing it consideringly in his palm. He then raises his arm and empties his hand over Dean's head, watching the flour catch in the spikes of his hair. "Much better," he approves.

Cas: 2, Dean: 1.

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean wrinkles his nose and follows Castiel's hand with his eyes, wordlessly shutting them as flour clumps in his hair like uneven snow drifts.

Sonuvabitch.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" Blinking the white powder away and suppressing an obvious smirk, Dean's fingers fumble over the counter. He refuses to break eye contact. Not for one fucking second. Even if Castiel's penetrating gaze makes him feel uncomfortably bare. Dean ignores his brain's "hilarious" inner joke about angel food cake, mentally triumphant over the fact that his hand found an egg.

Which he promptly cracks over Castiel's head, a broad grin cutting across his face like a knife as he holds back a wave of low chuckles that threaten to break free.

[action]

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Well this is... interesting. Cold. And wet. And running down the back of his neck and in front of one ear. This is, as Dean would say, 'not cool'.

Cas is still calm though. Unruffled as ever - certain situations, like Dean stupidly going and getting himself killed for fun, being the exception - Cas reaches up into his own hair, scoops as much of the slime as he can manage into one hand, and transfers it to Dean's hair, patting it down for good measure. "Yes," he says, "that is how it's going to be."

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Um."

Dean stares, for a moment, at the egg yolk sliding down the shell of Castiel's left ear, and swallows the heavy lump in his throat. There is something so satisfying about making the angel break out of his reserved shell, no matter the circumstances - it's a challenge, for one, because Cas rarely shows more emotion than a tea kettle. He snuffles the flour from his nose, breaking into another encouraging smile as the angel's warm hand rubs eggy goo in his hair.

The absurdity of all this makes him miss Sam.

Leaning on the counter with one elbow, Dean reaches up - Why is he reaching up? What the Hell is he doing? - And flicks Castiel's nose with another suppressed chuckle, licking the flour from his finger afterwards and making a face.

"...ew. Gross, dude. Needs more seasoning."

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Castiel's eyes cross to follow the progress of Dean's finger, his eyebrows furrowing. Dean's proximity is making a funny tickly feeling bloom in Cas' stomach, and he tamps it down firmly, reminding himself he's still angry with Dean.

...angry because he cares, though.

He swallows when Dean licks his finger, but frowns at his reaction. "Of course it does not taste good. The ingredients are still raw." Unless Dean means him, which would be... strange. Why would he want Cas to taste good?

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Could always change the recipe to angel food cake," Dean offers blithely, a rather smarmy smile stretching across his face.

This is dangerously close to flirting. What the fuck is he doing? He has no idea what he's doing. Maybe he's just so damned desperate for attention that he'll resort to trading coy glances with another guy.

...this mess sounds suspiciously familiar. He still feels bad about Kurt, even if it hadn't been intentional on his end to lead the kid on. Dean is just...oversexed.

Here, he's undersexed. Sex-starved. There's only so much you can do with your hand before risking carpal tunnel syndrome, and with Castiel in the room so often, it's a little awkward to take care of business when the guy could just pop into the bathroom while you're taking a dump, or releasing a little tension.

Personal space, man.

So Dean clears his throat, eyes darting back to the counter as his smile becomes a little more subdued. "Hold still," He mumbles, taking a pinch of sugar and leaning in closer, tongue sticking out one side of his mouth as he meticulously sprinkles the granules on Castiel's head.

[action]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Little did Dean and Castiel realize they had two spies in the form of high school cheerleaders. It was really by luck that they happened to catch the guys at all, and it was with wordless agreement that they'd be quiet and see what happened.

What happened was almost sickeningly cute flirting. Santana knew it. She knew all along that Dean was super gay; if actual sex had been happening in front of them right now, it would have been less gay than this.

She nudged Brittany and rolled her eyes, whispering, "How have they not made out yet?"

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[totallycheerio.livejournal.com]

Brittany hasn't really had much interaction with either of two, Dean she had briefly met. But this...It was really gay.

Not like she has a problem with that. Cause two guys? That's hot. She'd know, she's hot too.

"Maybe he's shy?" Brittany whispers back, her gaze focused on the two men in front of them. "That'd be hot if they did though."

[action]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Santana nodded. "Yeah, the angel's totally shy and virginal. They so need to grow a pair and just do it."

Because yeah, it'd be hot.

[action]

[totallycheerio.livejournal.com]

"He's kind of cute though," Brittany blindly reaches for Santana's hand, threading their finger together when she find it. "You know, in a gay boy sort of way. He'd totally be bottom."

[action]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Santana gave Brittany a fond look before turning her attention back to the guys.

"Totally. It'd be hot to see, but also kind of hilarious. He's super clueless."

The way they were whispering was quiet, yes, but was it really quiet enough for them not to be noticed? Did they really care either way?

[action]

[totallycheerio.livejournal.com]

"Like, he wouldn't know where you put it?" Brittany frowns. "That happened to me once, it hurt. But that Dean guy, he looks like he'd know what to do."

Care? Why would they? Well, unless the interrupted the hot gay action going on across the room. But hey, maybe they'd let them watch? Weirder things have happened.