There is no Enochian for "Yaharr Matey" Fic
As the brothers Winchester tumbled out of their latest motel and into the Impala, Dean looked oddly happy. Something which instantly worried Sam, so much that he stopped drinking his Starbucks.
“So… you’re in a good mood. Should I call the cops or just shoot myself?”
“Harr.” Dean grinned. “In truth, I found an interesting thing upon that internet o’ yours.”
Sam stared at his brother, and instantly ran through the mental list of signs of possession.
“Know Ye, young Sammy, that it be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, on this, the nineteenth morn o’ September?”
Sam exhaled slightly, a little reassured that it was just Dean being weird as opposed to Dean being possessed by something that wanted to kill him.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Ahar.” Dean grinned, starting up the Impala. Sam went back to drawing on his coffee, the heat doing nothing to the calloused, heat-proofed tongue of a Starbucks veteran.
Castiel appeared in the back seat, customary flutter of wings causing Sam to look around.
The choking noise that emanated from his throat and nasal cavity summed up his response pretty nicely. When he was done spluttering on regurgitated coffee, Sam managed to spare another look at the children’s tricorner foam pirate hat and plastic cutlass Castiel had worked in to his more regular wardrobe. Sam stared at the angel, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Dude…”
Castiel sent a quick glare at the back of Dean’s head, before sighing and looking at Sam with his usual robotic honesty,
“Arr.”
“Yaharr!” Dean punched the air, grinning like a kid on… well, International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Sam supposed, as the Impala set sail out of the Seven Seas motel
“So… you’re in a good mood. Should I call the cops or just shoot myself?”
“Harr.” Dean grinned. “In truth, I found an interesting thing upon that internet o’ yours.”
Sam stared at his brother, and instantly ran through the mental list of signs of possession.
“Know Ye, young Sammy, that it be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, on this, the nineteenth morn o’ September?”
Sam exhaled slightly, a little reassured that it was just Dean being weird as opposed to Dean being possessed by something that wanted to kill him.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Ahar.” Dean grinned, starting up the Impala. Sam went back to drawing on his coffee, the heat doing nothing to the calloused, heat-proofed tongue of a Starbucks veteran.
Castiel appeared in the back seat, customary flutter of wings causing Sam to look around.
The choking noise that emanated from his throat and nasal cavity summed up his response pretty nicely. When he was done spluttering on regurgitated coffee, Sam managed to spare another look at the children’s tricorner foam pirate hat and plastic cutlass Castiel had worked in to his more regular wardrobe. Sam stared at the angel, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Dude…”
Castiel sent a quick glare at the back of Dean’s head, before sighing and looking at Sam with his usual robotic honesty,
“Arr.”
“Yaharr!” Dean punched the air, grinning like a kid on… well, International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Sam supposed, as the Impala set sail out of the Seven Seas motel