“Yeah, that’s right, rub my meat.”
“Yes, I’ll rub your meat, Dean.”
Sam stopped in the doorway into the kitchen as he squeezed his eyes closed and hoped fervently that he wasn’t about to walk into something that he really did not want to know went on in the kitchen. Where they ate. And made their food. Fortunately another two steps into the kitchen presented him with Dean hovering by Castiel’s shoulder as he watched the other rub some seasoning into a large slab of pork. Sam suddenly remembered Dean mentioning they were going to have pulled pork for dinner the next night. It seemed a little bit late in the evening to be preparing food, but Sam wasn’t going to say anything about that.
“Yeah, Cas, rub his meat, wink wink.” Sam grinned at his lame joke. He was the little brother; technically he was entitled to being annoying.
Dean just shot him a dark look in response while Cas just snorted loudly but didn’t look up from his intense concentration on the pork.
“I don’t think so. It’s much too late for that, and I’m tired. Dean can rub his own meat tonight.”
“What if I don’t want to rub my own meat tonight?” Dean asked slyly and pressed up close against Cas’ back.
Sam wrinkled his nose and decided that he may have started the joke but he was definitely not going to stick around and end it. As soon as Dean gave Cas’ butt a little pat Sam quickly turned on his heel to retreat out of the kitchen to leave the two alone with their meat.
