Work Text:
Frowning, Dean glanced up from the massive book in front of him over into Bobby's kitchen where Cas's research station had been set up. Sam was sprawled out in the middle, shifting between the floor and the threadbare couch. Bobby was gone to help Rufus on a hunt and wouldn't be back for at least a week; it was the only way they'd have ever been allowed to strew his precious books all across the house like they had.
Fruitless research made a man cranky, even more so if his space was crowded by several other cranky men.
"Hey, angel, why don't you come see if you can't figure this text out," he called out. "Looks like it's more up your alley."
The angel in the kitchen continued pouring over his own work, finger running down the length of the page. From his position sprawled across the oriental rug, Sam stretched like a lazy cat, glancing over his shoulder at their friend. The brothers' gazes met and locked, Sam shrugging but continuing to watch curiously.
Frown deepening, Dean glanced back at Cas, wondering if his silence meant maybe he'd actually found something helpful. "Angel, you okay in there? ...Angel boy? Blue eyes? IBF?" That last one got a chuckle out of Sam, at least. In the kitchen, Cas turned a page. Setting down his pen, Dean leaned back in the worn leather chair, arms folded and a grin crossing his face as he decided to get more outlandish until Cas reacted.
"Well, I'm coming up with snake eyes over here, what about you, babe?" He winked at Sam in joke, his brother biting back a laugh, watching over his shoulder for the angel to react. Still he didn't. Dean soundlessly communicated with his brother, wondering if maybe the taller male had leant the angel his mp3 player and he wasn't answering simply because he couldn't hear Dean.
"Puddin'? Sweetie? Doll? Sweetheart?" He would have thrown out 'baby' as well, but that was strictly what he called the Impala. "Princess? You feeling alright?"
Even from behind, Dean could see the sharp in take of breath that was then slowly let out before Cas slowly turned in his seat, scowling in annoyance. For his part, Sam was grinning like a maniac.
It may have been the light, but Dean could have sworn one of Castiel's eyes twitched in irritation. "Dean, who are you talking to? And what are you going on about?"
Wiping a hand down his face, and then trying hard to wipe the grin off his face, Sam said, "He's talking to you, Cas. Trying to get your attention, but you were absorbed."
Puzzlement flicked over blue eyes, and Dean could almost hear the gears in the angel's brain trying to figure out what he'd missed in the joke. It made the corners of Dean's mouth wobble in his attempt not to grin.
"Does my name not suffice?"
"He doesn't get endearments, Dean."
"Yeah, I get that, jerk."
"Bitch." The angel just looked back and forth between them in confusion. Dean tried to explain. "I was talking to you, teasingly using pet names, endearments. You've heard us use them. Kinda like nicknames."
"Usually your endearments are insulting towards each other," pointed out the angel.
"But said in affection, nonetheless." He laughed and shook his head. "I was just throwing you a curve ball, Cas. Don't worry about it." He pointed down to the book. "Seriously, though, this page? All you. I think it's related to Enochian."
Rising, the angel quickly crossed the room, stepping over Sam and weaving around towering stacks of books and papers, to come stand by the hunter's side, leaning with one hand on the desk to peer at the page. He quickly straightened with a shake of his head. "This page will do us no good. It's is irrelevant. A hymn."
Dean nodded, disappointed that the research was not yet at an end. Moving away once more, the Angel of the Lord faltered, pausing to look back at the man with green eyes. Dean stared back, brows raised in question. "If... if you so wish, you may call me by... an endearment of your choice."
It took a moment, but a slow grin made it's way across Dean's face and he nodded, offering a teasing wink. "Sure thing, doll."
"Except that."