Dean groaned and hit the vending machine. It wasn't going to make the last turkey sandwich he had seen there this morning magically appear again but it made him feel better. It had happened every week for the past month. The sandwich that was by all rights his disappeared the day before the machine was due to be restocked. He knew exactly who it was, there was only one person it could be, and it was high time for a confrontation. He needed lunch damnit.
Fists balled at his sides, he marched to the offending cubicle. Gadreel suddenly looked a lot bigger than Dean seemed to remember. He took your food, Winchester. Gadreel looked up from his computer and sat the sandwich down on its wrapper.
"You keep taking the last sandwich," Dean gritted out, stomach growling to prove his point.
"I wasn't aware there was a problem with that. It is a public vending machine."
"That I buy a turkey sandwich from everyday."
"As do I now. I believe there's egg salad left," Gadreel said, spinning his chair back around.
Dean hissed under his breath before turning and stalking away. If Gadreel wanted a war over lunch then he would get one.
The next week sure enough there was the last sandwich in the machine- the one that had been there that morning gone. The next week he bought the sandwich when he got in. It was soggy and warm by the time lunch rolled around but it was his. He heard footsteps stop at his cubicle and turned, not at all surprised to see Gadreel standing there, arms crossed.
"Really?" was all he said before turning away.
The week after Dean did the same, glad it had been so effective. He was almost looking forward to the next confrontation between them. A confrontation with the tall, broad shouldered- food stealer. He wanted this settled and he wanted to win. When he got back from the bathroom the sandwich he had left on his desk was gone.
"Is this sandwich really worth it?" Dean asked after he had cleared a path through the lunch congestion.
"Your reaction is," Gadreel said, around a mouthful.
"Come on. Just let me have the damn sandwiches." It was low but it would work.
"They're," Dean was cursing himself, turning red. "They're all I can afford. I know they're shitty but the turkey is the least shitty and Stanford ain't cheap man."
"Let me take you to lunch Friday and I'll leave them be."
Dean looked at him, incredulous.
"Are you blackmailing me into a date?" he asked.
"You're welcome to say no. I was going to stop anyway, after that."
Dean turned, resigning himself to ham for the day. Still when he kissed Gadreel, gently, hesitatingly, the next day after lunch, surrounded in the busy deli, they both tasted like pickles and turkey. A combination Dean could get used to.