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Crunch. Crunch. Crinkle. Crunch. Crinkle. Crunch, lick, crinkle, crinkle.
Scarred fingers reached in and out of a large bag of hot Cheetos, their red dust clinging onto the saliva soaked tips as they approached their final destination.
Crunch. Crunch. Crinkle. Crunch. Crinkle. Crunch, lick, crinkle, crinkle.
The lights of the older television screen flickered and the pounding of hoofbeats and shouting echoed throughout the cavernous room, drowning out the squeaking of leather as pressure was applied and removed in a breathing rhythm. As Dean reached back into the bag for another handful of chips, he was startled by the delicate sound of feathers rustling. He jolted up with a start and reached towards his waistband where his trusty pearl-handled pistol was concealed.
“Hello, Dean,” came a calm voice.
“Cas? You scared the shit out of me!” Dean squawked, before shaking his hand and sitting back down onto the leather couch.
“Did you need something? Or did you just want to hang out?” he asked, patting the spot next to him. Castiel shook his head lightly and gingerly sat down next to Dean. The two sat in silence for a brief moment, listening to the Western playing on the television.
“Dean, I recently discovered an interesting human tradition that I would like to participate in. Is this acceptable?” asked Castiel as he conjured something small and pink out of thin air. He passed it to him, his broad hands lingering around Dean’s.
“Cas, you made me a card?”
“It is a… Valentine. I heard they were part of a holiday celebrating love. Is my information correct?” inquired Castiel. Dean’s face grew flushed as he opened the small card. It was heart shaped and smelled faintly of rose petals. A swirled message inside read “Heaven sent me to you. Will you be my Valentine?” with a smaller heart replacing the “i” in Valentine.
“Uh, Cas…” Dean began.
“Does this mean you decline to be my Valentine?” asked Castiel, his shoulders drooped dejectedly.
“No! No, Cas. I, uh, I’ll be your Valentine,” replied Dean, inwardly shaking his head at the awkwardness. He just couldn’t bring himself to deny the angel.
“Really?!” said Cas, a broad smile making its way onto his dour features. His crystal blue eyes sparkled with joy as he hugged Dean, squishing the two of them together and causing the bag of Cheetos to fall to the ground. Dean paused, sighing slightly before returning the hug.
Suddenly, a horrible stench began to fill the room.
“Oh my God!” shouted Dean, pulling away and covering his nose with his faded band t-shirt. Castiel’s nose scrunched up in disgust.
An evil chuckle echoed through the room, causing the duo to look up behind the couch, where Sam stood in the kitchen doorway, a mischievous grin upon his lips.
“You little bitch!” cried Dean as he shot up and ran towards his cackling brother. Sam quickly ran into the kitchen, shouting, “It was the burrito’s fault, Dean!” as his footsteps pounded on the linoleum.