Fic--Drinking with an angel
Title: Drinking with an Angel
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for seasons four and five.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, mentions of Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Anna, Uriel and Bobby Singer.
Notes: Just a quick fic I wrote for my friend samalander_dawn to cheer her up. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine! :D
Summary: Dean likes to drink with Cas because he’s quiet, but sometimes he wonders.
Dean Winchester sat alone on Bobby’s porch, looking out over the carcasses of old and rusting cars without really seeing them. He was tired. The weight on his shoulders was reaching critical mass and he was having issues dealing. He’d walked out of the discussion on how to kill Lucifer without so much as a word.
He needed some fresh air, some quiet. So he sat on the steps silently and tried to think about nothing for a while.
There was a soft flutter to his left, and he turned his head just enough to see the edge of a dirty brown trench coat before looking back over the cars. He didn’t say anything when Castiel took a few steps and then settled down beside him. He heard the quiet rustle of a bag, then a sharp clink of glass, and a dark brown bottle appeared in his line of vision.
He smiled a little and took it in one hand, enjoying the cool feel of glass against his palm. He cracked open the beer and heard Cas open his a moment later.
Dean lent back and eyed the angel, saying nothing for a moment. Cas took a pull from the bottle.
“Where’d you get the money for these?” Dean wiggled the bottle by its neck, and Castiel looked at him. The barest hint of a smile crossed the angels face.
“I’ve rebelled against heaven. Inequity…” He took another drink, licked his bottom lip and looked to the sky. “…Inequity is one of the perks.”
“So you stole them.” Dean smirked wider. “I might be rubbin’ off on you, Cas.”
The angel didn’t respond, his blue eyes still trained on the night sky. He cracked his neck.
Dean chuckled under his breath and looked up, wondering to himself what Cas was thinking about. He scrubbed one hand over his face.
“The woman running the store seemed alarmed.” His voice was gruff, but even that held a tinge of amusement. Dean was surprised how well he could tell what was going on with Castiel after so much time, especially compared to before. A year ago he wouldn’t have noticed the slight upturning of lips, or the tiniest difference in tone. He wondered if Castiel was becoming more human or if he just paid better attention.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I appeared in front of her, selected the beer and other alcohol I wished to consume, thanked her and left.”
“I can see how that might’ve freaked her out.” He laughed a little. “Other alcohol?”
The bag rustled again, and Cas handed over another bottle. “I believe you call it ‘Jack’.”
It was, in fact, Jack Daniels, and Dean polished off the last of his beer before gripping the cap tightly and twisting hard. The plastic gave a sharp crack. He took a swig, enjoyed the burning in his throat, and handed it back.
They did this, sometimes. Sat out on the porch and drank, mostly silent. Dean didn’t mind all that much. He found Castiels’ quiet was good for days like this, when he didn’t necessarily want to be sitting alone but wasn’t in the mood to be spilling his guts to Sam or Bobby. For three heterosexual guys they spent way too much time discussing feelings. It was stupid.
Cas was different. Cas rarely pushed or prodded, and seemed happy to sit next to Dean and listen to the sounds of the night. Sometimes Dean would talk. He’d talk about something funny that had happened on the road or the latest Dr. Sexy episode. And yeah, sometimes he told Cas about how he felt. But usually they just sat in the crisp night air and traded a bottle back and forth.
The jack came back to him a little lighter, and he knocked back another mouthful. The first time they’d done this it had been a struggle to get his dark-haired friend to drink anything, but a lot of things had changed since God had dismissed them as ‘Not his problem.’
“You know Cas…” He treated himself to another swallow. “You, uh… You’re a good guy.”
Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean decided to leave it at that.
They finished off the Jack and another two beers each, and by the end of it all Dean felt a little more lubricated and a little less like he had an anvil on his back. He stood gingerly and held onto the railing to steady himself. Cas looked directly at him for the first time, staring upwards with his dark eyebrows raised in a silent question.
“Goin’ to bed, Cas.” He said. He filled his lungs with the cool air and smiled.
“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel rose himself, and Dean turned. His boots thudded hard on the creaky wooden boards.
He had his hand on the doorknob when he heard Cas mutter something, and glanced back.
“What?”
The angel hesitated, looking up again.
“I… I said you’re a good man, Dean. No matter what anyone says.”
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Thanks, Cas.”
It was maybe the closest Castiel had ever come to saying something emotional during their late-night drinking. Dean tried to think back to the last time Cas had volunteered any information about himself and came up blank.
He looked at the angel closely. Pale yellow light from the porch illuminated the slight bags under the bright blue eyes, the fair skin with a few days worth of scruff dotting his cheeks. His shoulders were relaxed, or as relaxed as Castiel ever looked. Dean smiled at him.
“See you.”
“Of course.”
Another soft flutter, and the angel vanished from sight.
***
A few weeks later Dean set himself down on the porch steps once again, setting a case of beer at his feet. He opened two and held them in one hand, closing his eyes.
“Hey Cas. If you’ve got the time, come on down here.”
He opened green eyes to see a familiar tan trench coat and blue tie, and offered the angel one of the two beers. Castiel gave one of his ghostly smiles and took it before easing himself down next to the hunter.
They sipped in silence for a while, and Cas was starting his second beer when Dean cleared his throat.
“So, what’s heaven like for an angel?” He avoided looking at Cas and instead focused on a rather bright star. “Is it all fluffy clouds and harps or what?”
“We usually avoid that stereotype.” He could hear a smile in Castiel’s tone.
“So, what’s it really like?”
And when the angel began to tell him about heaven Dean made sure to listen carefully.
He told some stories about amusing things the angels had done that Dean…Really didn’t see the humour in, but jokes didn’t really translate well from angel to human. He laughed in the right places though. And some of them were kind of funny. Like how one of the angels had tormented Uriel for decades after the urinal was invented, and when Anna had asked if a urinal was able to be a vessel.
Dean kind of enjoyed the stories. He wondered if Cas enjoyed his as much.
But in the end they just sat quietly, watching the night sky shift in change as it became later and later, and then earlier and earlier. When Dean finally stood to end his night with a solid three hours he was stopped again at the door By Castiel’s gruff voice.
“Dean?”
He didn’t turn this time.
“Yeah Cas?”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t get to answer before the soft flutter of wings reached his ears.
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for seasons four and five.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, mentions of Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Anna, Uriel and Bobby Singer.
Notes: Just a quick fic I wrote for my friend samalander_dawn to cheer her up. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine! :D
Summary: Dean likes to drink with Cas because he’s quiet, but sometimes he wonders.
Dean Winchester sat alone on Bobby’s porch, looking out over the carcasses of old and rusting cars without really seeing them. He was tired. The weight on his shoulders was reaching critical mass and he was having issues dealing. He’d walked out of the discussion on how to kill Lucifer without so much as a word.
He needed some fresh air, some quiet. So he sat on the steps silently and tried to think about nothing for a while.
There was a soft flutter to his left, and he turned his head just enough to see the edge of a dirty brown trench coat before looking back over the cars. He didn’t say anything when Castiel took a few steps and then settled down beside him. He heard the quiet rustle of a bag, then a sharp clink of glass, and a dark brown bottle appeared in his line of vision.
He smiled a little and took it in one hand, enjoying the cool feel of glass against his palm. He cracked open the beer and heard Cas open his a moment later.
Dean lent back and eyed the angel, saying nothing for a moment. Cas took a pull from the bottle.
“Where’d you get the money for these?” Dean wiggled the bottle by its neck, and Castiel looked at him. The barest hint of a smile crossed the angels face.
“I’ve rebelled against heaven. Inequity…” He took another drink, licked his bottom lip and looked to the sky. “…Inequity is one of the perks.”
“So you stole them.” Dean smirked wider. “I might be rubbin’ off on you, Cas.”
The angel didn’t respond, his blue eyes still trained on the night sky. He cracked his neck.
Dean chuckled under his breath and looked up, wondering to himself what Cas was thinking about. He scrubbed one hand over his face.
“The woman running the store seemed alarmed.” His voice was gruff, but even that held a tinge of amusement. Dean was surprised how well he could tell what was going on with Castiel after so much time, especially compared to before. A year ago he wouldn’t have noticed the slight upturning of lips, or the tiniest difference in tone. He wondered if Castiel was becoming more human or if he just paid better attention.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I appeared in front of her, selected the beer and other alcohol I wished to consume, thanked her and left.”
“I can see how that might’ve freaked her out.” He laughed a little. “Other alcohol?”
The bag rustled again, and Cas handed over another bottle. “I believe you call it ‘Jack’.”
It was, in fact, Jack Daniels, and Dean polished off the last of his beer before gripping the cap tightly and twisting hard. The plastic gave a sharp crack. He took a swig, enjoyed the burning in his throat, and handed it back.
They did this, sometimes. Sat out on the porch and drank, mostly silent. Dean didn’t mind all that much. He found Castiels’ quiet was good for days like this, when he didn’t necessarily want to be sitting alone but wasn’t in the mood to be spilling his guts to Sam or Bobby. For three heterosexual guys they spent way too much time discussing feelings. It was stupid.
Cas was different. Cas rarely pushed or prodded, and seemed happy to sit next to Dean and listen to the sounds of the night. Sometimes Dean would talk. He’d talk about something funny that had happened on the road or the latest Dr. Sexy episode. And yeah, sometimes he told Cas about how he felt. But usually they just sat in the crisp night air and traded a bottle back and forth.
The jack came back to him a little lighter, and he knocked back another mouthful. The first time they’d done this it had been a struggle to get his dark-haired friend to drink anything, but a lot of things had changed since God had dismissed them as ‘Not his problem.’
“You know Cas…” He treated himself to another swallow. “You, uh… You’re a good guy.”
Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean decided to leave it at that.
They finished off the Jack and another two beers each, and by the end of it all Dean felt a little more lubricated and a little less like he had an anvil on his back. He stood gingerly and held onto the railing to steady himself. Cas looked directly at him for the first time, staring upwards with his dark eyebrows raised in a silent question.
“Goin’ to bed, Cas.” He said. He filled his lungs with the cool air and smiled.
“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel rose himself, and Dean turned. His boots thudded hard on the creaky wooden boards.
He had his hand on the doorknob when he heard Cas mutter something, and glanced back.
“What?”
The angel hesitated, looking up again.
“I… I said you’re a good man, Dean. No matter what anyone says.”
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Thanks, Cas.”
It was maybe the closest Castiel had ever come to saying something emotional during their late-night drinking. Dean tried to think back to the last time Cas had volunteered any information about himself and came up blank.
He looked at the angel closely. Pale yellow light from the porch illuminated the slight bags under the bright blue eyes, the fair skin with a few days worth of scruff dotting his cheeks. His shoulders were relaxed, or as relaxed as Castiel ever looked. Dean smiled at him.
“See you.”
“Of course.”
Another soft flutter, and the angel vanished from sight.
***
A few weeks later Dean set himself down on the porch steps once again, setting a case of beer at his feet. He opened two and held them in one hand, closing his eyes.
“Hey Cas. If you’ve got the time, come on down here.”
He opened green eyes to see a familiar tan trench coat and blue tie, and offered the angel one of the two beers. Castiel gave one of his ghostly smiles and took it before easing himself down next to the hunter.
They sipped in silence for a while, and Cas was starting his second beer when Dean cleared his throat.
“So, what’s heaven like for an angel?” He avoided looking at Cas and instead focused on a rather bright star. “Is it all fluffy clouds and harps or what?”
“We usually avoid that stereotype.” He could hear a smile in Castiel’s tone.
“So, what’s it really like?”
And when the angel began to tell him about heaven Dean made sure to listen carefully.
He told some stories about amusing things the angels had done that Dean…Really didn’t see the humour in, but jokes didn’t really translate well from angel to human. He laughed in the right places though. And some of them were kind of funny. Like how one of the angels had tormented Uriel for decades after the urinal was invented, and when Anna had asked if a urinal was able to be a vessel.
Dean kind of enjoyed the stories. He wondered if Cas enjoyed his as much.
But in the end they just sat quietly, watching the night sky shift in change as it became later and later, and then earlier and earlier. When Dean finally stood to end his night with a solid three hours he was stopped again at the door By Castiel’s gruff voice.
“Dean?”
He didn’t turn this time.
“Yeah Cas?”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t get to answer before the soft flutter of wings reached his ears.