Untitled #26 (Gen, PG)
Title: Untitled #26
Rating: PG
Category: Gen oneshot
Word Count: 1060
Characters: Dean and Castiel
Spoilers: None
Summary: Dean shops and Castiel observes.
Author’s Notes: From here. For astrothsknot who asked for something where Dean goes shopping. Castiel comes too. Dean resists the urge to kill him.
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
- - - - -
Dean found him at the end of the bath products aisle with a bright pink bottle in his hand. Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. Of all places for the angel to show up...
"What are you doing here?" Dean asked. Then, with a glance at the strawberry scented body wash, he added, "And with that?"
Castiel looked up from where he was reading the label on the back of the bottle. "It seems I was reading about how to 'infuse myself with the power of strawberries,'" he replied. "I was not aware that strawberries provided one with such a gift."
"Yeah, well? They usually don't, but when they're all liquid like in a bottle, they sure do wonders," Dean replied with a roll of his eyes.
Castiel placed the bottle back on the shelf and followed Dean as he turned down another aisle. "What are you shopping for, Dean?" he asked.
"The usual," Dean said. He stopped long enough to grab a new pack of blades for his razor. Next to him, Castiel had picked up a bottle of shaving cream and was turning it over in his hands.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked.
"Observing. I have received orders that I am to observe more about the human world."
"So you pick me."
"Is there someone else you suggest I should watch?"
Dean was about to spit out something smartass like Paris Hilton would probably appreciate a guardian angel on her shoulder, but he thought better of it. Knowing Castiel, Dean would have to give him a play-by-play explanation on who, exactly, was Paris Hilton and why she should have an angel with her. Instead, Dean exhaled and shook his head. "Whatever."
"This is cream," Castiel said as Dean began to walk away.
Dean stopped and turned around. "What?"
"Cream," Castiel said, holding up the blue can of shaving cream. "Cream is something that is normally used in desserts, isn't it? Odd that you would want to shave with it."
"It's a different kind of cream. Not edible."
"But cream is cream. All the same."
Dean sighed. "Do you speak English, man?"
"Yes, I speak English," Castiel answered, tipping his head to the side in that inquisitive manner he had adapted. "Do you not feel that I speak English adequately enough?"
"Well, just..." Dean put his hands on his hips, the handle of the shopping basket hanging off his wrist. Castiel was so much more annoying in a normal environment where they weren't out in old abandoned barns, fighting down demons. Put him in the middle of a store, and he just became a complete pain in the ass. "Look. Shaving cream is not edible. Whipped cream is edible. They're not the same thing. The end."
"I sense that you are growing agitated with me."
"You sense right," Dean said as he walked away. He still needed some groceries for them--he and Sam, who was back in the motel doing research. Hopefully, though, if Dean ventured into the grocery section, Castiel wouldn't end up trying to talk to the vegetables.
"Now, you need to buy food," Castiel said, moving with Dean down the aisles.
"Yup." Dean grabbed a bag of chips and dropped them in the shopping basket. The chips wouldn't last long between Sam and him, but they'd taste good anyway for their brief life.
"You choose unhealthy foods."
"What?"
"These are unhealthy," Castiel said. He had a bag of chips--the one Dean had just chosen--in one hand and a low-fat bag in the other hand. He was glancing back and forth between the nutritional labels. "The bag that you have chosen is higher in fat, calories, and sodium. It seems that the healthier choice would be the other brand."
Dean stared, flabbergasted. "And I care about that why?" he finally managed to sputter.
"Keeping one's body healthy should be a top concern. At least that seems to be what the magazines at the front counter were telling me. I would have assumed you would be following a similar healthy lifestyle."
"Cas?"
"Yes?"
Dean exhaled. His nerves were starting to fray. "Cas," he repeated again, trying to keep his voice level, "in case you haven't noticed, there's the whole 'been to Hell and back' thing I've got going on. And then there's, oh yeah, the apocalypse on our asses? Worrying about how many goddamn calories I'm eating is not exactly on my list of priorities. Not in the top ten. Not in the top hundred. Probably not even in the top one thousand, gottit?"
"So you do not pick your foods by nutritional value?"
Dean's answer was a curse under his breath.
Castiel nodded as if this made perfect sense, and he placed the two bags of chips back on the shelf.
Dean was halfway down the aisle, heading towards the beef jerky when Castiel asked, "Do you have a preference to your foods?"
Dean stopped and turned around. "What?"
"A preference? I am curious to know which foods appeal to you."
"And why's that?"
"I believe I already told you that. I am observing human nature. Food is a very large part of a person's life. I assume it would be for you, as well."
"Y'know, Cas, if you want to go and observe somebody, why don't you go observe Sam, hm? He's always up for some psycho-babble-bullshit and intellectual mumbo-jumbo, all right?"
"But Sam is not here. Sam is back at the motel room where he is working on his computer. I have already observed the both of you in that environment. I want to observe here."
"Well, if you're going to observe, can you at least observe quietly? I'd like to have a moment in my life where you're not breathing down my neck." Dean reached over and dropped a couple bags of jerky into his shopping basket.
"Dean?"
He sighed. "What?"
"Jerky. I know you have accused me before of not understanding the English language, but 'jerky'--and its other forms of ‘jerk’--is a word that has more than one meaning, does it not?"
"Oh God..." Dean groaned.
"Well, yes," Castiel said, "I am sure God would understand the origin of the word 'jerk,' but I feel that bothering Him with such trivial matters is not appropriate."
Dean shook his head and walked away. Stupid angels. Stupid, stupid angels.
End
Rating: PG
Category: Gen oneshot
Word Count: 1060
Characters: Dean and Castiel
Spoilers: None
Summary: Dean shops and Castiel observes.
Author’s Notes: From here. For astrothsknot who asked for something where Dean goes shopping. Castiel comes too. Dean resists the urge to kill him.
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
- - - - -
Dean found him at the end of the bath products aisle with a bright pink bottle in his hand. Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. Of all places for the angel to show up...
"What are you doing here?" Dean asked. Then, with a glance at the strawberry scented body wash, he added, "And with that?"
Castiel looked up from where he was reading the label on the back of the bottle. "It seems I was reading about how to 'infuse myself with the power of strawberries,'" he replied. "I was not aware that strawberries provided one with such a gift."
"Yeah, well? They usually don't, but when they're all liquid like in a bottle, they sure do wonders," Dean replied with a roll of his eyes.
Castiel placed the bottle back on the shelf and followed Dean as he turned down another aisle. "What are you shopping for, Dean?" he asked.
"The usual," Dean said. He stopped long enough to grab a new pack of blades for his razor. Next to him, Castiel had picked up a bottle of shaving cream and was turning it over in his hands.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked.
"Observing. I have received orders that I am to observe more about the human world."
"So you pick me."
"Is there someone else you suggest I should watch?"
Dean was about to spit out something smartass like Paris Hilton would probably appreciate a guardian angel on her shoulder, but he thought better of it. Knowing Castiel, Dean would have to give him a play-by-play explanation on who, exactly, was Paris Hilton and why she should have an angel with her. Instead, Dean exhaled and shook his head. "Whatever."
"This is cream," Castiel said as Dean began to walk away.
Dean stopped and turned around. "What?"
"Cream," Castiel said, holding up the blue can of shaving cream. "Cream is something that is normally used in desserts, isn't it? Odd that you would want to shave with it."
"It's a different kind of cream. Not edible."
"But cream is cream. All the same."
Dean sighed. "Do you speak English, man?"
"Yes, I speak English," Castiel answered, tipping his head to the side in that inquisitive manner he had adapted. "Do you not feel that I speak English adequately enough?"
"Well, just..." Dean put his hands on his hips, the handle of the shopping basket hanging off his wrist. Castiel was so much more annoying in a normal environment where they weren't out in old abandoned barns, fighting down demons. Put him in the middle of a store, and he just became a complete pain in the ass. "Look. Shaving cream is not edible. Whipped cream is edible. They're not the same thing. The end."
"I sense that you are growing agitated with me."
"You sense right," Dean said as he walked away. He still needed some groceries for them--he and Sam, who was back in the motel doing research. Hopefully, though, if Dean ventured into the grocery section, Castiel wouldn't end up trying to talk to the vegetables.
"Now, you need to buy food," Castiel said, moving with Dean down the aisles.
"Yup." Dean grabbed a bag of chips and dropped them in the shopping basket. The chips wouldn't last long between Sam and him, but they'd taste good anyway for their brief life.
"You choose unhealthy foods."
"What?"
"These are unhealthy," Castiel said. He had a bag of chips--the one Dean had just chosen--in one hand and a low-fat bag in the other hand. He was glancing back and forth between the nutritional labels. "The bag that you have chosen is higher in fat, calories, and sodium. It seems that the healthier choice would be the other brand."
Dean stared, flabbergasted. "And I care about that why?" he finally managed to sputter.
"Keeping one's body healthy should be a top concern. At least that seems to be what the magazines at the front counter were telling me. I would have assumed you would be following a similar healthy lifestyle."
"Cas?"
"Yes?"
Dean exhaled. His nerves were starting to fray. "Cas," he repeated again, trying to keep his voice level, "in case you haven't noticed, there's the whole 'been to Hell and back' thing I've got going on. And then there's, oh yeah, the apocalypse on our asses? Worrying about how many goddamn calories I'm eating is not exactly on my list of priorities. Not in the top ten. Not in the top hundred. Probably not even in the top one thousand, gottit?"
"So you do not pick your foods by nutritional value?"
Dean's answer was a curse under his breath.
Castiel nodded as if this made perfect sense, and he placed the two bags of chips back on the shelf.
Dean was halfway down the aisle, heading towards the beef jerky when Castiel asked, "Do you have a preference to your foods?"
Dean stopped and turned around. "What?"
"A preference? I am curious to know which foods appeal to you."
"And why's that?"
"I believe I already told you that. I am observing human nature. Food is a very large part of a person's life. I assume it would be for you, as well."
"Y'know, Cas, if you want to go and observe somebody, why don't you go observe Sam, hm? He's always up for some psycho-babble-bullshit and intellectual mumbo-jumbo, all right?"
"But Sam is not here. Sam is back at the motel room where he is working on his computer. I have already observed the both of you in that environment. I want to observe here."
"Well, if you're going to observe, can you at least observe quietly? I'd like to have a moment in my life where you're not breathing down my neck." Dean reached over and dropped a couple bags of jerky into his shopping basket.
"Dean?"
He sighed. "What?"
"Jerky. I know you have accused me before of not understanding the English language, but 'jerky'--and its other forms of ‘jerk’--is a word that has more than one meaning, does it not?"
"Oh God..." Dean groaned.
"Well, yes," Castiel said, "I am sure God would understand the origin of the word 'jerk,' but I feel that bothering Him with such trivial matters is not appropriate."
Dean shook his head and walked away. Stupid angels. Stupid, stupid angels.
End