Seeing The Light In Your Eyes

19- "No You Don't."

"I don't know what to do," Sam admitted.

Angel shrugged, "did you have lunch?"

Sam shook his head, "no."

"I didn't either," Angel said, "we should have a late lunch."

Sam nodded at her suggestion, noticing he was hungry,"I can make some tomato soup or something..." Sam offered.

"Sure."

Sam smiled and turned towards the kitchen in Angel's apartment.

"You're going have to tell me where things are in here," Sam told her, "or as you would say, be my human map."

Angel laughed, "tomato soup cans are in the cabinet there," she pointed to the cabinet, to the right of the fridge, "and the pots are down there, "she pointed to another cabinet, to the left of the range.

"Thanks," Sam said as he began cooking the food for them.

"I don't know if this is a weird question, but... uh... does Dean seem... gay to you?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, kind of, I guess."

"That doesn't bother you at all?" Angel asked.

Sam stuck his bottom lip out a little. He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"It bothers most people."

"Does it bother you?" Sam asked her.

"Yes."

"Why?" Sam inquired.

"Because... Sam, it's not right. Men shouldn't be with men," she answered like it was obvious.

The apartment filled with delightful sounds and smells from the soup.

Sam sighed, "so if he is gay--which he might not be--you'd totally be offended by that?"

"Why does this matter?"

"Because we're talking about my brother," Sam answered.

"The last queer guy I met was a dick, and his name was fitting," she said.

Sam looked at her, "want to elaborate?"

She sighed, "well, his name was Dick..."

Dean looked at Cas, "we should get something to eat."

"Dean, it's 3:29..." Cas pointed out.

"Just a snack, or, coffee. Something?"

Cas sighed, "Dean, it's not good for your health to always be hungry."

Dean sighed, "so, no food?"

"No food, Dean," Castiel answered.

"But I--"

"Dean, I here by declare I am your doctor and you will listen to me or you will die," Cas said.

Dean scoffed, "but I'm starving."

"Physically impossible," Cas pointed out, "I watched you eat pasta yesterday."

"I hate you..." Dean muttered, crossing his arms.

"No you don't."

Dean didn't reply, though it was true. He didn't hate Cas.

Honestly, that was brave of Cas. Telling a man who is taller and more muscular than you that you won't do something for them because you're worried about their health.

Cas leaned his head onto Dean's shoulder.

"What do you want to do?" Cas asked, then added, "other than eat."