#archiought

The other man narrows his eyes, speaking slowly, “Yes, Dean… I did…”

Dean (who’s still half asleep) blurts out, “What the fuck?!” 

Castiel just rolls his eyes and strolls into the room, pulling the dirty sheets off of their bed and walking straight past Dean again on his way out. 

Dean stares at the empty doorway and says again, “What the fuck?” 

A week later they’re in Wyoming on a case when Cas does it again. 

Dean’s sulking in the motel room because Sam volunteered to get lunch and he knows, he just knows that little shit is gonna bring back something with tofu in it.

“Fucking tofu,” he grumbles and flops down face first onto the bed. 

Cas laughs softly and runs a hand through his hair, “We can always get something else, boo.” 

Neither one of them says anything for a solid minute.

“Cas,” Dean groans into the cheap bedspread and can’t even bring himself to look up. “What the fuck.” 

Sam chooses that moment to push the motel room door open covered in blood and soot and grinning like a madman, “So, get this.” 

This time it takes about 48 hours for it to happen again. 

Cas is talking to the waitress at the diner they’re grabbing food from. Dean’s coming back inside after stepping out to answer a phone call from Sam when he hears it.

“So that guy you came in here with,” the girl smiles coyly and steps closer to Cas, clearly flirting. “Are you guys… together…?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Castiel says cautiously, and Dean doesn’t even have to be able to see his face to know that Cas is squinting loudly at her. 

“He’s my boo.” 

Dean trips into a table, yelping when the legs (his or the table’s, he’s not entirely sure) give out and he’s suddenly falling and splayed out on the floor of the diner. 

Cas’ face comes into view after about three seconds and he looks panicked, “Dean, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself? I told you that was a concussion.” 

“Cas…” Dean winces when he hears how rough his voice is from getting the wind knocked out of him, “Babe, why…” 

The waitress pops up over Cas’ shoulder and asks hurriedly, clearly concerned, “Is he alright? Should I call 911?” 

Dean groans and covers his face in his hands. 

Somehow, Dean’s not really sure how, Cas convinces her not to call an ambulance.

He does, however, help Dean into the car since he’s got a pretty nice bump on his head.

“Hey,” Dean mumbles a little, feeling incredibly mortified, “Cas, just -”

Cas is trying to essentially shove Dean into the car, terrible at hiding his own panic and concern. 

Dean huffs a laugh and grabs his hands as he leans against the Impala, “Hey, just wait a second Speedy Gonzalez. I gotta ask you somethin.” 

“Dean.” He glares a little at him, “You are hurt. Can’t this wait?” 

And, okay, he just - he needs to know. Before he accidentally impales himself on something because his significant other or whatever (ugh) calls him ‘boo’ in the middle of a hunt.

“Cas why the fuck do you keep calling me ‘boo’?” 

Castiel blinks at him for a beat, his cheeks turning a bit pinker by the second, “I…”

“And don’t,” Dean wraps an arm around his waist so he can’t run. “Don’t do that thing you did last week. When you stole the sheets and made me feel like an idiot.” 

“I didn’t steal the sheets, you -” 

“AH!” Dean shakes his head and pulls Cas closer, “No, no deflecting either.” 

Cas pouts and he gets that look in his eye that’s usually reserved for when somebody’s got them tied up in a non-sexy way. 

“You’re human now, hot stuff, you got no wings to fly away from me with,” Dean snorts. 

He deflates after a beat and looks up at Dean hesitantly, “Charlie… said that’s what you liked to be called. Is that -” 

He actually looks worried for a second, “Is that incorrect?” 

Oh.

Oh, well…

Yeah, no, it’s still weird as fuck and it has to stop. 

Dean barks a laugh in lieu of saying actual words and shakes his head, “Uh… yeah, um that’s - that’s incorrect.” 

Cas makes that face where he’s pouting but also glaring at you like he low key wants to set you on fire, “Why?” 

And this time it’s apparently Dean’s turn to feel his cheeks turn bright fucking red.

“Well, it’s…” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s, uh. Dated, I guess. And…”

The tips of his ears turn fire engine red.

“Cheesy….?”

“I see,” Cas says quietly, avoiding looking at Dean.

Good God, seriously?? 

Dean groans and slips a leg in between Cas’ so he has room to thump his head back onto the roof of the Impala, “Aw fuck, are you shitting me?” 

He stays like that for a second and practices his measured breathing like Cas taught him, “You like it. You like calling me boo, don’t you?” 

“I think it’s… cute,” Cas murmurs after a few moments, the smile evident in his voice. 

“I thought we established I wasn’t cute,” Dean grumbles. 

“You’re always cute to me, Dean Winchester,” Cas grins and leans forward to press a kiss to his jaw. 

Dean whines, squirming a little bit to get away but it just manages to wiggle him closer to Cas, “Ughhhhhhh, I hate you.” 

Castiel smiles, ducking his head into the crook of Dean’s neck, “You love me.”

“Fuck you,” he grumbles and wraps both arms tightly around Cas’ waist. “Fuck you and your corny ass 2006 Usher pet name.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

“Jesus fucking christ, Castiel.” 

“Hey babe,” Dean calls out from the kitchen where he’s making dinner a few weeks later, “Can you get some potatoes from the cellar?” 

Cas pops in and kisses Dean’s cheek, “Sure thing, boo.” 

Sam almost chokes on his sip of beer before he starts laughing.

“Not a word, Samantha,” Dean warns in a quiet growl, pointing the spatula at his little brother. “Not a god damn word, you understand me?” 

He holds up his hands in mock defeat, a shit eating grin on his face as he starts to walk backwards towards the library, “Sure thing…” Sam’s smile somehow grows even more mischievous, “Boo.”