Impala
It was a Tuesday.
Dean and Cas were cooking together. Cas had several cook books, and had watched several videos on YouTube. He was prepared for cooking.
What he was not prepared for was the big distraction Dean was being.
Cas was checking the pasta to see if it was done yet, while trying to keep an eye on the ground beef he was cooking. Dean suddenly came behind him, wrapped his arms around and grabbed his hands so that Dean was controlling Cas' movements.
When Dean put the wooden spoon down, he twisted Cas around to look him in the eyes. Cas pouted at him, which made Dean grin. Dean kissed him, trying to work around the pout, but Castiel stayed resolute, his lips like a statue.
Dean chuckled and pulled away. He went back to washing dishes. Cas returned to fussing over the meat, but Dean couldn't help himself. He went to Cas and put his hands on his lover's hips, swaying them.
Cas didn't say a word, just continued to mix the meat. After a moment, he locked his hips into place. Dean pushed, but Cas pushed back. Dean trailed his fingers up and down Cas' waist, but Cas ignored them. Dean blew cold air on the back of Cas' neck, but Cas refused to acknowledge it.
Dean huffed and turned away. Cas finished the meat and mixed it with the sauce. He was proud that he didn't burn it. The noodles got drained, and Cas doled out two bowls of spaghetti.
They ate the first dinner they made together—and correctly, with no fires or injuries—in silence. Dean kept himself from moaning around the delicious food, and Cas purposefully moaned loudly. Dean shot him a glare, but Cas wasn't looking.
Dean stood up abruptly, and put his half-eaten bowl in the sink. He turned around sharply to see Cas contemplating a meatball. Dean rushed him, attacking his lips, trying to work them open. But Cas was like marble. When Dean rose his head microscopically, Cas' eyes were wide open and blank.
Dean finally gave up; Cas was in a mood, apparently. Dean went outside.
His baby had been whining lately, and he needed to replace the belt. He popped open the lid and examined the area. He was going to have to get on the trolley for this. He covered his t-shirt with his work shirt, got down on the ground, and slid under his car.
He was just removing the old belt when he felt hands around his ankles, hands that were strong, hands that were pulling him from under the car.
Dean immediately assumed it was a demon, and cursed himself for leaving the holy water flask on the work bench, twenty feet away. In his defense, it had been years since they last fought a demon. But still.
When his head cleared from under the car, he sat up to try to attack the demon. But it wasn't a demon.
It was his husband.
Cas was bent over at the knees, and was pulling Dean's face towards his own. Dean was a little shocked, given Cas' coldness earlier, but quickly got with the program. His back was against the front of the Impala, and Cas was somehow in his lap, though. They were still on the trolley, and Dean had to dig his heels into the dirt to prevent them from rolling. He was completely trapped, between a car and a hard place.
Dean acknowledged his own pun, and let out a chuckle. A hard place, indeed, he thought, and Cas rubbed himself against Dean.
A wicked, cruel idea popped into Dean's head. He acted on it.
When Cas pulled away by a hairsbreadth to breathe, Dean shut his mouth and remained impassive. He did not respond to Cas kissing his face, his throat, or the clothed frotting that was going on.
Eventually, Cas gave up.
He growled, shoved himself off of Dean, and stormed back into the house. Dean chuckled again, at no one, and slid back under his car, trying to convince his lower half to stop being so damn excited, it wasn't going anywhere.
By the time he had the new belt in place, and came out from under the car, he was greasy and sweaty from the June sun. He patted his baby, assuring to come out and wash her soon, and went into the house.
He couldn't see Cas as he made his way up into their shared bathroom. He removed his clothes and turned on the shower. After a few minutes of scrubbing the grease off his hands, he was shocked to feel hands twining around his waist. Large, wide hands. That were no longer on his waist, that were trailing further and further down.
"That is the last time you choose your car over me," Cas growled in his ear. Dean could feel Cas' hardness against him, and Little Dean quickly rejoined the conversation.
"Oh, yeah?" Dean growled right back. "Well, that will be the last time you choose to cook instead of me." Dean whipped his hands up and grabbed Cas' hair, and claimed his lips. There was a second of warring for domination, then sweetness.
It was the last time either of them chose cooking or cars over their husbands.
Well. Not the last last time.
A/N: Sorry for the later posting, it's been hectic here. Three words: Mother. In. Law. I'm so glad you all liked the last installment, and please review!