[SPN] "Take the Long Way Home..." (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for "fic_promptly"'s Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, The Impala may not be his first choice of how to travel, but he's getting used to it, even beginning to like certain aspects of it
"It would save time if we were to travel by my way," Castiel said, eying the motor vehicle, named for a fleet African antelope. He was no stranger to this mode of transportation, but even still, the human's attachment to something so slow and expensive to maintain puzzled him. Human ingenuity seemed to embrace easily anything that moved swifter or more efficiently than its predecessor.
Dean shook his head. "It would, but I ain't risking puking up my kidneys, the way I almost did the last time," he argued.
"Almost cannot be numbered in the matter," Cas said.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Whut? No, don't answer that, you'll just use even bigger words," he said, raising a hand dismissively. "Just get in the damn car."
"Very well," Castiel replied, phasing into the passenger seat. Dean rolled his eyes as he climbed into the driver's seat: he did not say as much, but Castiel could tell he was thinking, Why can't you just open the damned door like everyone else?
Once they were on the road, the monotony of the journey started: the empty highway stretching off for miles into the dark of the night, the ghostly towns drifting by, the open, dark sky overhead. Such short distances, like atoms compared to the vastness of space, but somehow the road ahead seemed to stretch on for light years.
Even still, if he had to travel this slowly, at least he was in good company. The human beside him was the closest thing to a friend whom he could truly call one, in the earthly sense of the word. He had had friends in heaven, but the word "friend" didn't quite work the same way there as it did down here. Dean would put on that odd music with the heavy drumbeats and the loud guitars. And from time to time, he would sing along with it. He certainly would not qualify for the celestial choir, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. And volume.
"C'mon, Cas, sing along," Dean coaxed.
"I would rather not," Castiel replied, simply, without coldness and not snubbing the human.
"Aww, come *on*, Cas, don't be a wet blanket," Dean coaxed.
"It would be wise if I did not: if you cannot bear to gaze on my true form, you could not bear to hear my voice in song," Cas replied.
Dean glanced at him, slightly blank, glanced back to the road, then looked back to him. "Okay. Point taken. Not gonna have my ears blown out."
"It would save time if we were to travel by my way," Castiel said, eying the motor vehicle, named for a fleet African antelope. He was no stranger to this mode of transportation, but even still, the human's attachment to something so slow and expensive to maintain puzzled him. Human ingenuity seemed to embrace easily anything that moved swifter or more efficiently than its predecessor.
Dean shook his head. "It would, but I ain't risking puking up my kidneys, the way I almost did the last time," he argued.
"Almost cannot be numbered in the matter," Cas said.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Whut? No, don't answer that, you'll just use even bigger words," he said, raising a hand dismissively. "Just get in the damn car."
"Very well," Castiel replied, phasing into the passenger seat. Dean rolled his eyes as he climbed into the driver's seat: he did not say as much, but Castiel could tell he was thinking, Why can't you just open the damned door like everyone else?
Once they were on the road, the monotony of the journey started: the empty highway stretching off for miles into the dark of the night, the ghostly towns drifting by, the open, dark sky overhead. Such short distances, like atoms compared to the vastness of space, but somehow the road ahead seemed to stretch on for light years.
Even still, if he had to travel this slowly, at least he was in good company. The human beside him was the closest thing to a friend whom he could truly call one, in the earthly sense of the word. He had had friends in heaven, but the word "friend" didn't quite work the same way there as it did down here. Dean would put on that odd music with the heavy drumbeats and the loud guitars. And from time to time, he would sing along with it. He certainly would not qualify for the celestial choir, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. And volume.
"C'mon, Cas, sing along," Dean coaxed.
"I would rather not," Castiel replied, simply, without coldness and not snubbing the human.
"Aww, come *on*, Cas, don't be a wet blanket," Dean coaxed.
"It would be wise if I did not: if you cannot bear to gaze on my true form, you could not bear to hear my voice in song," Cas replied.
Dean glanced at him, slightly blank, glanced back to the road, then looked back to him. "Okay. Point taken. Not gonna have my ears blown out."