Ab Inconvenienti-Dean & Castiel
Title: Ab Inconvenienti
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Castiel
Prompt: From
a_bad_scene- Dean/Castiel, Castiel ruins his shirt/coat whatever and Dean helps him get new clothes? Bonus if somewhere dumb like Walmart is included haha Put it right after Yellow Fever. Dean's kind of avoiding Sam, and hanging with Cas more
Word Count: 2,096
Genre: Crack, Friendship-ish
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Castiel gets a new coat and Dean tries to get away for a little while.
Warnings: Slight angst towards the end
Castiel decided when Dean tossed the seventh pair of jeans into his arms that clothes were far too heavy for their own good. He shifted the load, relieving the slow developing ache in his wrist for a few moments, and was in the process of reminding Dean that he only needed a new coat, when the hunter vanished around a corner.
If it had been anyone else, Castiel would have taken the opportunity to go away from this horrible mart place. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Dean Winchester, who, upon discovering the ragged shape of Jimmy’s coat, had demanded they go find a new, better one. Dean Winchester, who needed Castiel right now in way neither of them really understood. It was by silent agreement that Castiel stood in the mart place and allowed Dean to toss clothes in his general direction. It was also by silent agreement that Castiel knew he would get an explanation after this was over.
Finding a new coat seemed like it would be an easy task to Castiel, who did not understand the lure of racks upon racks of clothing. So he waited and hoped Dean remembered he wasn’t here for jeans or rock t-shirts or even socks, even if the steadily widening hole over his big toe was starting to bug him a little.
It was in the middle of wiggling said toe and grimacing as it finally slipped through the cloth, that he noticed the gaze of a woman off to his right. She was slightly overweight, frizzy-haired and blue vested. Dean had told him that the blue vest meant she worked at the mart place, grudgingly giving over her time and effort to help people who couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag, much less this place. None of this explained why she was staring at him so intently though, so he did the only thing he could think of.
He smiled. And granted it was an awkward smile, one he’d practiced in the mirror a few times to no avail, but it made her look away for a moment. He was relieved until the same woman appeared at his side. If he was less in control, he would have jumped. Instead he let out a unsteady breath and met her eyes.
“Can I help you find anything, sir,” she said, an edge of suspicion in her voice. He glanced at her name tag: Lucille. She looked like a Lucille.
He blinked, shifting to answer around the clothes, just as Dean reappeared and gave the woman a hearty please-go-away smile. “We’re fine,” he muttered, stuffing the latest bundle of clothes into Castiel’s arms and dragging him away.
Castiel hid his gratitude, which of course meant that Dean already knew and it didn’t need mentioning, as the hunter shoved him into a tiny room and shut the door on him. It was a bland sort of room, some hooks and a mirror and not much else. “Dressing room,” Dean supplied through the door. “Try everything on,” there was an odd pause before he continued, “Show me if you like it.”
He took a long moment to undress, sliding of the jacket, undoing each button on the shirt, fighting with the tie and nearly falling over as he stepped out of the pants. The whole ordeal merely confirmed the reason he never changed out of Jimmy’s clothes. It was too much of a hassle, too many steps for such a simple result. But, once again, it was Dean who had asked him and he couldn’t refuse. Frowning , he carefully picked his way through t-shirt after t-shirt before selecting one that was sort of green, but not offensively so.
Putting clothes on proved to be slightly less difficult then getting them off, though Castiel was still dead set against it by the time he turned to look at himself in the mirror. It was different, greener and tighter then he was used to, the denim rough and unfamiliar on his skin. He shifted, plucking at the light fabric and frowning at his reflection.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it - as much as he was even capable of liking his appearance - it just made him uneasy, reminded him of Jimmy. His host had been dressed just like this when his wife finally confronted him, drove him out, drove him to allow an angel to take his body.
This definitely was not good, he decided, turning his back on the mirror, which was when Dean ungracefully slammed the door open. Castiel started, whipping around, ready for any kind of fight that might approach him in the mart place, only to relax completely when his eyes met the hunter’s.
Dean grinned, but it was a plastic kind of grin. He hadn’t managed to resolve whatever had upset him since shoving Castiel into the dressing room. “That looks great,” he said, crossing the small space to rustle through the pile. Castiel tried to protest, only to have a dark jacket tossed at him.
“Put it on.” He did and something genuine touched the hunter’s smile. “You’ll have girls falling over themselves to get at you,” which Castiel countered with silence, tilting his head. But Dean, in that way of his, managed to demand a verbal response without saying anything and Castiel caved after nearly a minute.
“No.”
Dean looked honestly stricken. “What do you mean no. That’s way better then the holy-tax-accountant-wear you had before.”
"No,” he responded, placing more emphasis on the word. The hunter just looked at him, infuriatingly calm and still demanding a better answer. “Dean-”
“Don’t ‘Dean’ me-”
“Dean, I just need a new coat.”
Castiel decided that the silence that settled like a weight between them was worse then having Dean yell at him in a dream, or stab him in the chest. The hunter seemed hurt and Castiel realized he had broken the agreement too soon. Dean had expected him to sit and take it for a little while longer, before he finally let the angel confront him. It wasn’t really about clothes. It was about doing something that didn’t involve monsters or death for a little while before turning back to deal with it again.
Dean finally broke the silence with a low, “Fine,” before stalking out the door. Castiel felt like he should say something to stop him, but he didn’t get further then his name before the hunter interrupted him, “Just stay there.”
The clock was much louder then it really should be, he decided after changing out of the denim and t-shirt, and 60 ticks had slammed themselves against his ear. And as he started counting the second minute, Lucille stepped into the hallway and looked at him.
“Boyfriend trouble?” she asked like she knew a thing or two about it.
He pursed his lips. “I don’t think so.” It was at times like these when he missed Dean’s translation because he knew when someone stuck the words ‘boy’ and ‘friend’ together it meant something different then when they were separate, but he couldn’t remember what it was.
Lucille cocked her eyebrow at him and shrugged. “Just between you and me,” she said conspiratorially, “Guys like that are never worth it. He may look great, but that kind of attitude…” She trailed off, giving Castiel the kind of sympathetic look he had never seen before.
He shifted, getting the idea. “We’re not…” He gestured vaguely and she nodded, eyebrow still cocked, before vanishing back to her post.
Castiel waited and fidgeted and thought about changing for Dean, but it seemed like that might just make him angrier. The clock ticked and Lucille came back to check on him once, before Dean finally returned with a few bland coats thrown over his arm.
He stepped in, closed the door and pulled one off its hangar, holding it out for Castiel. “That lady up front gave me a pretty nasty look when I came in here,” he said off-handedly. Trying to lighten the mood, Castiel thought.
The angel stepped into the coat, only slightly surprised when Dean immediately let go, like he’d been burned. He turned, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes as the hunter looked him up and down. Then the hunter was sifting through the hangars, muttering, “Not that one,” more to himself than Castiel.
He accepted the next coat, handing over the less than satisfactory one. This one once again got a disapproving grunt from the hunter and he took the third, pleased that the air between them had calmed down a little.
Dean stared at the third coat for a long while, before waving at him to turn around and see if he liked it. After a moment of examining his own reflection, he decided it looked and felt enough like his old coat to be workable and he nodded.
“Now we just have to pay,” Dean announced to the room, hanging up the new coat and grabbing a small armful of other clothes. Castiel grabbed what was left, and followed the hunter out the door. Lucille did not look pleased when they dropped everything except the one coat on the table of go-backs.
Both of them knew the silent agreement was coming to its inevitable conclusion. It was just a matter of time.
Castiel decided waiting in a check-out line was very like some kind of Hell, though Dean’s grin when he realized he’d picked a discounted coat almost made it worth it. Almost. Not quite.
After wandering to find a slightly private place, they settled onto a miraculously empty bench just outside the gardening section. They were quiet. Dean stared straight ahead and Castiel waited, watching people drift by, truly and beautifully careless. The Apocalypse wasn’t around the corner for them, just another day at work.
Then Dean cleared his throat and Castiel glanced in his direction. “Where’s Sam?” he asked, knowing he would have to prompt the hunter before anything happened.
Dean didn’t look at him as he answered, “Y’know? I honestly don’t know.” He paused and Castiel knew enough not to say anything. “When you said he was going down a dark path, what did you mean?”
Castiel shifted, leaning back just so. “Just that. He’s on a road and none of us know where it goes.” He frowned. “Why? What happened?”
Dean bit his lip, looking off in the other direction. His hands twisted together, slightly shaky, like he wasn’t sure if he should continue or not. Then he nodded and met Castiel’s eyes. “I had a Ghost Sickness, the other day and… I mean, I know it’s supposed to prey on your fears and stuff, but it was just so real...”
“What was?”
“Sam. He was a demon. With yellow eyes. And, I know it was just a hallucination, but what if…” He stopped, frowning. “What if it comes true?”
Castiel was silent because he knew exactly what would happen if it came true, but he knew that wasn’t what Dean wanted to hear. “Do you trust your brother?” The hunter nodded. “Then trust he’ll make the right choices.” It felt hollow. He knew Sam had a destiny and that destiny made the others uneasy, but Dean didn’t need to know that, any more then he needed to know he wasn’t going to save all the seals, or even most of them.
That sort of uncomfortable feeling drifted between them. Dean wanted more and Castiel looked away, strangely unhappy that he wasn’t able to give it. He finally broke the silence with a faintly mumbled, “Thank you for the coat.”
“Yeah. No problem, I guess.” Dean sounded resigned to his fate, accepting that Castiel couldn’t give him a more complete answer then that. After a moment, he stood and brushed the crumbs off his shirt. “Hey, thanks for staying long enough to listen. I’m sure you’ve got some angel-y thing to do now, right?”
It was permission to go, as much as gratitude and Castiel nodded. There should be something else. Some reassuring comment, but nothing came and he vanished.
Dean stared at the spot where Castiel had been for a long moment, before turning and slowly picking his way towards the motel. He felt better, if only slightly. Sam knew what he was doing. And if he tripped up, Dean would be there to help him. His brother wouldn’t go dark side, and Castiel wouldn’t have to kill him, and Dean was perfectly content to believe it, no matter how much of a lie it was.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Castiel
Prompt: From
a_bad_scene- Dean/Castiel, Castiel ruins his shirt/coat whatever and Dean helps him get new clothes? Bonus if somewhere dumb like Walmart is included haha Put it right after Yellow Fever. Dean's kind of avoiding Sam, and hanging with Cas more
Word Count: 2,096
Genre: Crack, Friendship-ish
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Castiel gets a new coat and Dean tries to get away for a little while.
Warnings: Slight angst towards the end
Castiel decided when Dean tossed the seventh pair of jeans into his arms that clothes were far too heavy for their own good. He shifted the load, relieving the slow developing ache in his wrist for a few moments, and was in the process of reminding Dean that he only needed a new coat, when the hunter vanished around a corner.
If it had been anyone else, Castiel would have taken the opportunity to go away from this horrible mart place. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Dean Winchester, who, upon discovering the ragged shape of Jimmy’s coat, had demanded they go find a new, better one. Dean Winchester, who needed Castiel right now in way neither of them really understood. It was by silent agreement that Castiel stood in the mart place and allowed Dean to toss clothes in his general direction. It was also by silent agreement that Castiel knew he would get an explanation after this was over.
Finding a new coat seemed like it would be an easy task to Castiel, who did not understand the lure of racks upon racks of clothing. So he waited and hoped Dean remembered he wasn’t here for jeans or rock t-shirts or even socks, even if the steadily widening hole over his big toe was starting to bug him a little.
It was in the middle of wiggling said toe and grimacing as it finally slipped through the cloth, that he noticed the gaze of a woman off to his right. She was slightly overweight, frizzy-haired and blue vested. Dean had told him that the blue vest meant she worked at the mart place, grudgingly giving over her time and effort to help people who couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag, much less this place. None of this explained why she was staring at him so intently though, so he did the only thing he could think of.
He smiled. And granted it was an awkward smile, one he’d practiced in the mirror a few times to no avail, but it made her look away for a moment. He was relieved until the same woman appeared at his side. If he was less in control, he would have jumped. Instead he let out a unsteady breath and met her eyes.
“Can I help you find anything, sir,” she said, an edge of suspicion in her voice. He glanced at her name tag: Lucille. She looked like a Lucille.
He blinked, shifting to answer around the clothes, just as Dean reappeared and gave the woman a hearty please-go-away smile. “We’re fine,” he muttered, stuffing the latest bundle of clothes into Castiel’s arms and dragging him away.
Castiel hid his gratitude, which of course meant that Dean already knew and it didn’t need mentioning, as the hunter shoved him into a tiny room and shut the door on him. It was a bland sort of room, some hooks and a mirror and not much else. “Dressing room,” Dean supplied through the door. “Try everything on,” there was an odd pause before he continued, “Show me if you like it.”
He took a long moment to undress, sliding of the jacket, undoing each button on the shirt, fighting with the tie and nearly falling over as he stepped out of the pants. The whole ordeal merely confirmed the reason he never changed out of Jimmy’s clothes. It was too much of a hassle, too many steps for such a simple result. But, once again, it was Dean who had asked him and he couldn’t refuse. Frowning , he carefully picked his way through t-shirt after t-shirt before selecting one that was sort of green, but not offensively so.
Putting clothes on proved to be slightly less difficult then getting them off, though Castiel was still dead set against it by the time he turned to look at himself in the mirror. It was different, greener and tighter then he was used to, the denim rough and unfamiliar on his skin. He shifted, plucking at the light fabric and frowning at his reflection.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it - as much as he was even capable of liking his appearance - it just made him uneasy, reminded him of Jimmy. His host had been dressed just like this when his wife finally confronted him, drove him out, drove him to allow an angel to take his body.
This definitely was not good, he decided, turning his back on the mirror, which was when Dean ungracefully slammed the door open. Castiel started, whipping around, ready for any kind of fight that might approach him in the mart place, only to relax completely when his eyes met the hunter’s.
Dean grinned, but it was a plastic kind of grin. He hadn’t managed to resolve whatever had upset him since shoving Castiel into the dressing room. “That looks great,” he said, crossing the small space to rustle through the pile. Castiel tried to protest, only to have a dark jacket tossed at him.
“Put it on.” He did and something genuine touched the hunter’s smile. “You’ll have girls falling over themselves to get at you,” which Castiel countered with silence, tilting his head. But Dean, in that way of his, managed to demand a verbal response without saying anything and Castiel caved after nearly a minute.
“No.”
Dean looked honestly stricken. “What do you mean no. That’s way better then the holy-tax-accountant-wear you had before.”
"No,” he responded, placing more emphasis on the word. The hunter just looked at him, infuriatingly calm and still demanding a better answer. “Dean-”
“Don’t ‘Dean’ me-”
“Dean, I just need a new coat.”
Castiel decided that the silence that settled like a weight between them was worse then having Dean yell at him in a dream, or stab him in the chest. The hunter seemed hurt and Castiel realized he had broken the agreement too soon. Dean had expected him to sit and take it for a little while longer, before he finally let the angel confront him. It wasn’t really about clothes. It was about doing something that didn’t involve monsters or death for a little while before turning back to deal with it again.
Dean finally broke the silence with a low, “Fine,” before stalking out the door. Castiel felt like he should say something to stop him, but he didn’t get further then his name before the hunter interrupted him, “Just stay there.”
The clock was much louder then it really should be, he decided after changing out of the denim and t-shirt, and 60 ticks had slammed themselves against his ear. And as he started counting the second minute, Lucille stepped into the hallway and looked at him.
“Boyfriend trouble?” she asked like she knew a thing or two about it.
He pursed his lips. “I don’t think so.” It was at times like these when he missed Dean’s translation because he knew when someone stuck the words ‘boy’ and ‘friend’ together it meant something different then when they were separate, but he couldn’t remember what it was.
Lucille cocked her eyebrow at him and shrugged. “Just between you and me,” she said conspiratorially, “Guys like that are never worth it. He may look great, but that kind of attitude…” She trailed off, giving Castiel the kind of sympathetic look he had never seen before.
He shifted, getting the idea. “We’re not…” He gestured vaguely and she nodded, eyebrow still cocked, before vanishing back to her post.
Castiel waited and fidgeted and thought about changing for Dean, but it seemed like that might just make him angrier. The clock ticked and Lucille came back to check on him once, before Dean finally returned with a few bland coats thrown over his arm.
He stepped in, closed the door and pulled one off its hangar, holding it out for Castiel. “That lady up front gave me a pretty nasty look when I came in here,” he said off-handedly. Trying to lighten the mood, Castiel thought.
The angel stepped into the coat, only slightly surprised when Dean immediately let go, like he’d been burned. He turned, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes as the hunter looked him up and down. Then the hunter was sifting through the hangars, muttering, “Not that one,” more to himself than Castiel.
He accepted the next coat, handing over the less than satisfactory one. This one once again got a disapproving grunt from the hunter and he took the third, pleased that the air between them had calmed down a little.
Dean stared at the third coat for a long while, before waving at him to turn around and see if he liked it. After a moment of examining his own reflection, he decided it looked and felt enough like his old coat to be workable and he nodded.
“Now we just have to pay,” Dean announced to the room, hanging up the new coat and grabbing a small armful of other clothes. Castiel grabbed what was left, and followed the hunter out the door. Lucille did not look pleased when they dropped everything except the one coat on the table of go-backs.
Both of them knew the silent agreement was coming to its inevitable conclusion. It was just a matter of time.
Castiel decided waiting in a check-out line was very like some kind of Hell, though Dean’s grin when he realized he’d picked a discounted coat almost made it worth it. Almost. Not quite.
After wandering to find a slightly private place, they settled onto a miraculously empty bench just outside the gardening section. They were quiet. Dean stared straight ahead and Castiel waited, watching people drift by, truly and beautifully careless. The Apocalypse wasn’t around the corner for them, just another day at work.
Then Dean cleared his throat and Castiel glanced in his direction. “Where’s Sam?” he asked, knowing he would have to prompt the hunter before anything happened.
Dean didn’t look at him as he answered, “Y’know? I honestly don’t know.” He paused and Castiel knew enough not to say anything. “When you said he was going down a dark path, what did you mean?”
Castiel shifted, leaning back just so. “Just that. He’s on a road and none of us know where it goes.” He frowned. “Why? What happened?”
Dean bit his lip, looking off in the other direction. His hands twisted together, slightly shaky, like he wasn’t sure if he should continue or not. Then he nodded and met Castiel’s eyes. “I had a Ghost Sickness, the other day and… I mean, I know it’s supposed to prey on your fears and stuff, but it was just so real...”
“What was?”
“Sam. He was a demon. With yellow eyes. And, I know it was just a hallucination, but what if…” He stopped, frowning. “What if it comes true?”
Castiel was silent because he knew exactly what would happen if it came true, but he knew that wasn’t what Dean wanted to hear. “Do you trust your brother?” The hunter nodded. “Then trust he’ll make the right choices.” It felt hollow. He knew Sam had a destiny and that destiny made the others uneasy, but Dean didn’t need to know that, any more then he needed to know he wasn’t going to save all the seals, or even most of them.
That sort of uncomfortable feeling drifted between them. Dean wanted more and Castiel looked away, strangely unhappy that he wasn’t able to give it. He finally broke the silence with a faintly mumbled, “Thank you for the coat.”
“Yeah. No problem, I guess.” Dean sounded resigned to his fate, accepting that Castiel couldn’t give him a more complete answer then that. After a moment, he stood and brushed the crumbs off his shirt. “Hey, thanks for staying long enough to listen. I’m sure you’ve got some angel-y thing to do now, right?”
It was permission to go, as much as gratitude and Castiel nodded. There should be something else. Some reassuring comment, but nothing came and he vanished.
Dean stared at the spot where Castiel had been for a long moment, before turning and slowly picking his way towards the motel. He felt better, if only slightly. Sam knew what he was doing. And if he tripped up, Dean would be there to help him. His brother wouldn’t go dark side, and Castiel wouldn’t have to kill him, and Dean was perfectly content to believe it, no matter how much of a lie it was.