Castiel popped up beside Dean, as suddenly as always.

Dean and Sam had been munching away, Sam buried face-first in leafy greens and Dean hoarking down as much pasta as he could. After all; while Olive Garden didn't have pie, they did have warm and soft bread sticks that made stopping someplace else for dessert well worth it.

Dean jumped as Castiel appeared, heart skipping a beat from the sudden movement. He jumped back, his shoulders hitting the back of the booth as his eyes widened. Castiel simply tilted his head curiously to the side, as if wondering what had caused his over the top reaction.

"Dammit, Cas," he said, forcing his muscles to relax as he swallowed his bite. "You have got to stop doing that."

"Apologies." Castiel said, even though he clearly didn't understand what he was apologizing for. Sam raised his eyebrows expectantly as Cas's eyes dropped to the table, eyeing Dean's food.

"Cas, what is it?" Sam asked.

"What?" Castiel asked, licking his lips as he gazed lustfully at Dean's pasta bowl. Sam cleared his throat, and Cas's eyes finally snapped back up to him.

"Why did you come here? Do you have something to tell us, or...?" Sam questioned, expectantly.

"Oh, right. That." Castiel said, his thoughts finally steering away from the tantalizing scents. "I just wanted to inform you that the never ending pasta bowl is a lie. I came here a few days ago and consumed copious amounts of pasta. I regret to inform you that they cut me off after forty-three bowls, claiming that it was 'closing time'."

As soon as he was done speaking, his eyes drifted back to Dean's pasta. His eyes were hungry.

"You ate forty-three bowls of pasta?" Sam questioned, his voice dripping with worry. "That sounds-"

"Awesome!" Dean finished for him, smacking the table. His grin stretched across his face. "Dude, that's like impossible. Or, y'know, im-pasta-bowl." Dean said, letting out a laugh at his own joke.

"Thank you. I was informed by the manager that it was quite the feat." Castiel said, nodding his head. Dean finally noticed his gaze on the pasta bowl and shrugged, shoving it over.

"You've earned it, dude." he declared, shrugging. Castiel immediately picked up the fork and shoveled a couple of large bites into his mouth, savouring the rich flavour.

He set the fork down then, pushing the bowl back to Dean.

"Thank you." He said, gratefully. Dean narrowed his eyes at a stray spot of sauce, twitching.
"Dude, let me get that." He finally said, leaning forward to get a better look.

Castiel held still as Dean's left hand came up to cup his face, and he leaned into the touch. Dean's right thumb slowly traced along Cas's bottom lip as his fingers gently lifted Cas's chin.

Dean's eyes flickered several times back and forth between Cas's lips and his eyes, even after the pasta sauce was gone. They seemed frozen in time.

"Guys, stop being gay. People are watching." Sam instructed. Dean pulled his hands away sharply, jumping back. He cleared his throat.

"No homo." He announced, loudly. Castiel nodded his head several times.

"No homo indeed. Just pasta sauce." Castiel confirmed.

"Just pasta sauce." Dean mumbled, looking down. "No homo, just pasta."

Dean said it the last time as if reassuring himself. He glanced up at Sam, who was looking in between him and Castiel like he'd just witnessed the second (or was it the third? Dean's lost count) apocalypse. Castiel cleared his throat, successfully clearing some of the tension.

"Well, I have angelic duties to attend to. I must be off." He said, giving a nod to both of the boys. They nodded in return, short and concise.

And with that, our angel departed once again.