Spoilers: None specifically, but blanket warning for the whole of season six just in case. This takes place some time between 'Like a Virgin' and 'Mommy Dearest'.
Summary/Prompt: Dean and Cas go to McDonalds -jesusfoodsex tumblr

Author's notes: Okay so considering I'm a vegetarian as well as the fact I absolutely abhor the fast food industry and haven't been to an establishment like McDonald's into about 10 years or so, I'd say this was pretty freaking unbiased but I guess my disdain seeped through at several instances. Also this is the most plotless piece of non-porn I have ever written and I don't even know where it came from but whatever, whatever- it fit the prompt. Oh and, this was intended as pre-slash but given that nothing of great romantic significance happens, you could interpret it as friendship if you were so inclined, but seriously, what the hell are you doing reading my fic if you wanted gen? I mean really.

Anyway, ~allons-y.

It was a sad fact of Dean Winchester's life that the peak of fine dining to him came in the shape of a trip to Kalispell, Montana's finest McDonald's, but when you lived off of last night's stale diner food coated in an extra delicious layer of bug-flavoured fryer grease, well you're not exactly going to turn your nose up to a Big Mac. Or a Mcflurry. Or a Mc...pie? The obnoxiously silly names aside, all Dean knew was that the food was edible and he was hungry as fuck, and since Sam was next door getting the healthiest lady-sub Subway had to offer and couldn't nag at him, he was going to eat the biggest, most worthwhile deep fried heartattack he could find. He didn't, however, count on Little Miss Bitch jr making her presence felt.

"Dean, I don't understand why we couldn't just accompany Sam," a certain disgruntled angel of the Lord grumbled as he dragged himself along behind Dean, his nose wrinkling in disgust, "At least the restaurant he picked didn't smell like perspiration and carcases."

"Would you like a tampon to go with that vagina, Castielle?" Dean scoffed, walking towards the line for the register, his position in front of Cas meaning he missed the angel's pointed eye roll.

"Your rampant sexism is almost as overbearing as the smell in here."

Dean sighed. He knew Cas was still a little cheesed off about the fact that Dean had plucked him out of a strategy meeting and called him down here to 'take a load off' and go catch a bite with him, but honestly, how long could you stay grumpy at someone who was looking after your best interests? Sure, Castiel didn't technically need to eat or rest or anything that made him halfway non-robotic, but it was more than obvious to see that the war was taking its toll on the angel. He was snappy, his face more contorted than usual and Dean hadn't heard his voice sound so forlorn since before Lucifer's ascension. An afternoon off would do him the world of good. Sure, maybe he should've called in advance before making a 911-esque prayer, but dear sweet fuck, would he get over it already? Dean's stomach growled its agreement. He could bitch at Dean all he wanted once the hunter had at least four ounces of dead cow in his stomach, but until then he needed to shut his pretty little mouth and wait in line like a good angel.

"You know you didn't seem to mind the smell when you were inhaling the contents of White Castle." Dean quirked an eyebrow at his friend after sizing up the huge queue they were about to join, but decided it was short enough to be forgiven- it was lunch time after all and he really wanted a halfway decent burger. To the untrained eye, Castiel appeared to have no reaction to Dean's observation but Dean caught the slight shudder that rippled through him at the memory of diving head first into a mound of uncooked meat.

"Which is exactly why I dislike the odour now," he sniffed, his eyes narrowing at Dean in challenge.

"Well whatever, man, I'm not asking you to actually eat anything if you don't want, I just wanted to, y'know, hang," Castiel opened his mouth to protest but Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand "Yeah, yeah I know 'I don't have time to "hang", Dean, I'm fighting a war.'" Actually, it was quite an impressive impression- air quotes and all. But if Cas' glare was anything to go by, he didn't agree.

"I do not sound like that" Dean felt then not-very-adult urge to giggle at the offended tone Cas spoke with, a childish spike of pleasure running through him as he teased his favourite nerd angel.

"You kind of do." His grin widened at Cas' expression- caught somewhere between the creased frown that usually signified the arrival of the head tilt of doom and utter indignation. Wanting to see how far he could push him, Dean adopted a stone-faced expression, schooling his features into complete seriousness and fixed an impenetrable stare onto an unimpressed Castiel as he ground out in one hundred percent pure Bale-Bat-voice "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition" before creasing up in self-satisfied laughter.

Dean's eyes were sparkling with amusement, an impish grin having broken out on his face as he sank into easy laughter and Cas felt a tiny slither of tension slip away. Seeing his friend this relaxed, secure in the knowledge he had his brother happy, healthy, soul-and-all and in the company of a comrade, it felt good. He could allow himself a few moments of make believe, could pretend that things were no more complicated than friendly banter in a fast food restaurant south of nowhere as Dean jovially mocked him.

Dean took in the slight twitch of the corners of Cas' mouth with utter glee, pride coursing through him at having achieved getting Castiel to loosen up- even if for a second. Not unlike his prank wars with Sammy, teasing Castiel helped to relieve the stress from both of them. It was slipping back into old, familiar habits. Things were different between them now. They didn't feel as...close as they once did. But in moments like these, it was as if he never complied with his orders to go to Lisa, as if Castiel never flew back on up to become heaven's bitch again. It was nice. Simple.

He realised that he his chuckles had long since faded away and instead he had merely been staring at Castiel with a fond expression on his face for a time now verging on inappropriate, but Cas was looking right on back. It was hardly a new thing for them and Dean wasn't an idiot. He knew it wasn't exactly normal to lock eyes with your friends for endless minutes, but when had they ever been normal?

"I miss this" he sighed, his eyes flickering around Cas' borrowed face. The angel's expression slipped into barely noticeable wistfulness and Dean swallowed against the regret that came with remembering that they can't have this, not right now and certainly not often and he hastily looked away. The line slowly moved forward one person and it was pretty freaking stupid that they called it fast food because they'd been here for five minutes already and his stomach wasn't even close to knowing the satisfaction of actually being full with-

Castiel's hand came up to rest on his shoulder, warm and heavy, anchoring him to reality in typical Castiel fashion. His long slender fingers wrapped around the t-shirt covered flesh, resting just above the brand that signified the severity of their relationship and the tense muscles in Dean's body sank into it without his say so. He half suspected angel mojo to be at work, but truth be told this was just Cas. He didn't touch often, but when he did Dean had always noticed the calming presence he had. Well, aside from when his touches were handing him his ass on a plate, but that's a different story. Right now, Castiel's touch said 'me too', said 'I'm here. You're okay. We're safe" and it was enough. He smiled weakly at his friend and when Cas finally withdrew, Dean found himself leaning towards him- not touching. Just allowing himself to soak up his presence while it was available.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few heartbeats but when Dean glanced back towards Cas, he noticed the angel's brow was furrowed in what appeared to be a somewhat pained expression. It could also very well be constipation, but Dean was pretty sure he was right the first time, but you couldn't be too careful with the mostly unreadable former mandroid he called his best friend.

"What's up?" Castiel turned his head towards Dean, and while he could be imagining it, the angel looked a little paler than usual.

"It...appears my vessel has begun to have a negative reaction to the environment." Well that didn't sound good.

"Meaning?"

"I believe the smell...is making me feel, um," the angel's eyelashes fluttered as he searched for the correct word, "nauseous?" Dean raised his eyebrows .

"What? How is that even possible? Angels don't get sick, right?" He couldn't help the wave of concern that spread through him as he watched Cas's face twitch with something close to repulsion as the pair neared the source of the meaty scent.

"No, we don't. It seems to be a conditioned response," Dean winced in sympathy, Castiel's features screwing up when his gaze fell upon a construction worker stuffing his face with processed meat, ketchup slithering down his peppered chin and landing in a dollop on his filthy, tattered wife-beater. The angel gulped and visibly scrambled to compose himself, "I do not believe I have the capacity to actually vomit but this is...very unpleasant"

This time, it was Dean's turn to provide comfort as his hand instinctively moved to touch Castiel where the angel's own hand had rested on Dean's body minutes earlier.

"Hey, man, you wanna go wait outside? You're really not looking so hot." A malicious spout of familiar guilt washed through Dean as he looked upon his friend's hapless expression. After all, it'd been his idea to yank Cas out of a no doubt important appointment with his fine feathered friends and shove him in to Greasetopia and, oh, self-punishment complex, how he'd missed thee.

Cas looked hesitant to accept Dean's out, obviously reluctant to leave the hunter now that he was here- probably due to something like his dumbass sense of guardianship demanding that he protect his charge against the cruel hostility of the unforgiving fast food queue.

"C'mon dude, out you go, I'm not having you keel over on me"

"Dean, I told you, I'm not going to-"

"Yeah, well I'm not taking the chance" He grabbed Castiel's other shoulder and swivelled him around towards the general direction of the exit "You're not gonna be much use to your troops if you're too busy barfing on the clouds to talk shop, are you?" The haven that was the sluggish damp of the outside with its breathable air ignited longing in Cas' eyes and he took a step forward on impulse before catching himself and turning sad eyes on Dean.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I never anticipated this reaction" His shoulders sagged and the tone of his grave voice sounded so dejected that the sad-puppy comparison was impossible not to make and Dean had to actively fight against the urge to pet his hair.

"Dude, don't sweat it. Just go sit with Sammy or something- I'll be over when I'm done eating." Castiel nodded his accordance and briskly strode out of the restaurant, keen to escape the putrid stench of the cooking flesh that, if it were possible, would surely haunt his non-existent dreams. Dean watched as the tan trench coat disappeared into the bored grey of the afternoon before turning back to his place in line. He felt the pressing need to follow the angel and make sure he was okay, which was absurd since Cas was an angel- he wasn't actually sick. It was just some unfortunate Pavlovian crap going on. (Or was it Skinner? Psychology was never his strong point.) An annoyed blast of air left his mouth. There were still six people in front of him- it'd probably take him about five more minutes to actually place his order, then he had to wait for the food and then, y'know, eat it. He could be in there for fifteen more minutes at least while the poor guy had to wait on his own. Or worse- get his ears chewed off with an onslaught of "but get this" while Sam geek-gasmed over something important and ancient he'd found on the internet and since Dean didn't torture any more, he found that distinctly cruel.

His mind's eye flitted between the image of biting into the juicy, mouth-orgasm inducing burger he'd get his hands on if he waited a few more minutes and the utterly miserable, ill expression on Castiel's face as he turned to leave and Dean's stomach clenched in compunction. Screw it.

With one last glance at the near bliss of what waiting for him beyond the register, he dropped out of the queue and stomped off with determination, lest he give in to the temptation of the delicious aroma that seemed to be suddenly flooding his senses in a siren call to entice him into changing his mind. But as he made his way out of the restaurant and towards the hippy shack next door where he saw his brother and Castiel sitting by the window, it would appear that the Winchesters and their angel would all be eating rabbit food that day.

Ugh. The things he did for lo-friends.