Strings Attached

Chapter 63

"They didn't come in with the food," Dean protests. "I did, and I'd like my credit."

"No," Gabriel replies.

"I'll give you the credit," Castiel offers. "Thank you, Dean, for bringing us pizza."

"See, Castiel's nice. You guys should be more like Castiel."

"Usually, I'd be making a joke about how bad that would be, but I actually can't see anything wrong with that idea," Lucifer replies.

"I see something wrong," Anna observes. "We aren't eating this pizza that is sitting on the counter for us to eat."

"Ah, true," Samandriel agrees. "Pizza, man! Let's eat!" He grabs paper plates because no one feels like doing dishes later, and they all sprawl out in various places around the house.

Dean and Castiel sit in the living room, sharing the couch as they eat in isolation from the rest of the group. Castiel debates asking Dean what he was doing yesterday. He generally tells Castiel things when he's confronted on it. Still, Castiel opts not to. If Dean wouldn't tell him over the phone, he probably doesn't want to talk about it. Even if he would if Castiel asks, the younger boy doesn't want to pressure him into it. Castiel has had enough of that to know that it's not pleasant.

"Are you done eating already?" Dean asks incredulously when Castiel puts the plate on the coffee table in front of them.

"Yeah."

"You had two pieces!" Dean observes as if that's ridiculous. Castiel supposes it may be to him. After all, Dean is already on his sixth piece, and they aren't very small.

"Yes, and?" Castiel replies.

"No wonder you're so skinny. You never eat!"

Castiel shrugs. "I'm not hungry."

Dean sighs as if he's a disappointed parent. "Cas, you're a growing little angel person. You need to eat."

Castiel chuckles at that. "I do eat."

"Barely. And this is pizza, Cas. Pizza, which is almost as good as pie. Okay, maybe not, but it still pretty freaking awesome. Go eat some more pizza, now."

"I'll pass," Castiel replies.

"That wasn't an offer; it was an order. Go, get pizza."

"No, thanks," Castiel declines.

"I'm gonna go get you some pizza," Dean announces before walking out of the room, returning shortly after with two slices of pizza; one for each of them. "There. Eat."

"What are you, my parents?" Castiel asks, rolling his eyes.

"No, I'm worse," Dean replies. "So eat your pizza. Now."

Castiel sighs. "Fine, Dad." He takes a couple bites of the new piece of pizza. "Better now?"

"You're really difficult. You know that's, right?"

Castiel nods. "Yeah. It's my specialty."

"Well, you may not want pizza, but I do," Dean tells him.

By the time he finishes eating, he's had more than a full large pizza, leaving Castiel dumbfounded. How does one person eat that much food? Castiel could barely eat two pieces, and Dean ate ten. How?

"Okay, Dean, we're shutting you off the pizza," Sam tells him.

"What? Why?" Dean whines. "I want pizza!"

"Too bad," Gabriel replies. "If you're getting anything, it's an intervention. You ate more pizza than me and Sam combined. You're done, period."

Dean groans. "Ugh, fine." He throws out his plate and Castiel's, then walks towards the living room again. He attempts to sneak another piece of pizza, but Sam walks over and slaps his hand away.

"No. Bad Dean," Sam scolds him.

"Do I look like a dog to you?" Dean asks, annoyed.

"You eat like one," Sam replies.
"I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. Give me a break."

Sam frowns. "Oh, right." He takes a full pizza box and hands it to Dean. "Have some pizza."

"Thank you." Dean takes it and marches over to the living room with it, sitting down on the floor and beginning to eat.

Castiel leans against the wall, amused and confused (and also apparently a poet.) "Why haven't you eaten since breakfast yesterday?"

Dean shrugs. "Been busy,"

"And very cryptic," Lucifer adds.

"That too," Dean agrees. "But on the bright side, pizza."

When he finishes another entire pizza, Sam decides to cut him off for real. Dean argues about it, but Castiel has a feeling it's less about the pizza and more about just arguing with his brother. Finally, Sam convinces him not to eat anymore, though he shouldn't have had to convince the boy at all. Eighteen pieces should be enough.

They're all hanging around the living room when the front door opens. They all share a look. If they're all in here, who is that? Castiel barely has time to register the thought that it may be Chuck before someone enters the room.

And in their hand is a gun.