The Emporium 03: Rules Are Made To Be Broken
03: Rules Are Made To Be Broken
Dean was happily pottering away in The Emporium, humming along to Metallica playing on the radio. He was putting boxes back in their proper places when the door opened and an odd looking pair came in. One was slim, dark haired in a dark and expensive looking suit. He was wearing sunglasses and had a confident swagger to his step. The other was slightly chubby, blonde with light blue eyes. He was wearing a tweed suit and actively not looking at anything in the shop other than his friend and the floor.
“Really dearest, is this really necessary?” the blonde chided in a British accent.
“I told you already Zira, yes.” Zira let out a very put upon sigh as his hand went to twine their fingers together.
“I don't see why we should.”
“Shut up angel.”
Huh. Dean gave them another look as he put the last box back in its place. Perhaps they aren't as freaky as they first look. Stepping out from behind the shelf, he flashed them a wide smile.
“Good morning gentlemen, can I help at all?”
“Actually...” the dark one began. He was cut short by a light smack to the arm which was immediately soothed by a rub.
“Crowley!” Zira hissed. “We are perfectly fine thank you. Crowley will just have a look round. I will make sure he does nothing untoward.”
Dean smiled and made himself scarce behind the counter, half watching the bizarre couple half lost in his own world. He listened to the two men quietly murmur between themselves, with an occasional snicker from Crowley and a shocked gasp of quaint distress from Zira. However he was soon distracted by the ringing of the bell above the door. Glancing up he saw a short man with light brown hair and hazel eyes that twinkled with barely hidden laughter. He strolled over to the counter and smirked at Dean.
“I need your help.” he announced. Dean raised his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” the short guy grinned.
“So how can I help?” Dean was quickly losing his patience with him.
“I need the biggest dildo you have. The biggest, scariest and most real looking.”
A squawk came from the shelves followed by the sounds of various things falling and mumbled apologies.
“Aziraphael!” Crowley chided. “What have you done?” his tone was mocking and a smile threatened to turn his mouth up. The blonde looked up sheepishly, a deep scarlet blush adorned his full cheeks.
“I will put everything back. I'm terribly sorry.” he said. Dean grinned and turned back to his shortest customer.
“So, you are after one very large and realistic dildo?” the guy's smile widened if that were possible and nodded.
“Got it in one kiddo.” Dean frowned at the name.
“My name's Dean.” Dean's frown deepened at the casual address.
“Nice to meet you Dean. Gabriel.” the man stuck a hand out. “So, about this dildo...”
“Yup. This way.” he led the way towards the back of the shop while Gabriel chattered inanely behind him.
“The only reason I need one if for my little brother.” Dean was glad his face was hidden to the other man. As much as he prided himself in self control, incest was still something he wasn't exactly comfortable with. Thinking of Sammy like that...urgh...he resisted the urge to do a full body shudder.
“You see, he recently came out as gay. I always knew he was even if he didn't. Older brothers do tend to know best after all. So to celebrate his final flying from the closet as you may put it I think he ought to have a permanent cock in his life. Even if it is plastic. And bigger than average. Still, that should have its perks.”
Dean closed his eyes as they got to the rack and said what could never be classed as a silent prayer for the poor schmuck this douche was going to endow with such a 'gift'. It only took Gabriel 2 minutes to pick out the most hideous neon pink monstrosity with a gleeful giggle. As Dean took his payment, behind his smile he was begging all known deities that this particularly short yet awful man never darkened the doors of this fine establishment ever again. Practically skipping out of the store, Dean watched him leave and left out a sigh of relief. Some people were just plain weird. A soft clearing of the throat brought him back to the here and now.
“I'm so terribly sorry.” Zira began. “But I appear to have stepped on this tube while trying to pick everything else up and it has split.” Dean looked down at the tube of chocolate flavoured body paint now oozing over the other man's hand.
“Not to worry, happens all the time.” he smiled and took the offending tube. Placing it on the counter by the till, he continued with his usual smile. “So, find everything you were looking for?”
The blonde man blushed as Crowley dropped a few items onto the counter.
“I think that will be all.”
“Really, dearest, is this all really necessary?”
“Well...yes. And you know you will enjoy them.” A wink accompanied that particular announcement. Unfazed, Dean rang up the items, tuning out the couple's banter. He handed over the bag and just about caught the tail end of whatever Zira was saying as they left.
“Don't tempt me you demon.”
For a while Dean was alone again in the shop. He grabbed a book from his bag and settled against the counter. He learnt from experience that short stories were better to bring to work. If a customer came in and interrupted, it was easier to put down and there was a higher chance of someone coming in between stories. He was 2 paragraphs from the end of a particularly confusing piece - then again, what else would you expect from Neil Gaiman - when the door opened.
Dean wasn't sure whether to be pleased to horrified that it was the weirdly blue eyed guy again. Or Cas, as he now knew him. Dropping his book quickly, Dean schooled his features into an almost smile. It was met by an equal mix of bemused and trepidation.
“Hello Dean.” his voice sounded like it hadn't been used in a while, low and gravelly.
“Cas.” an awkward silence followed. “You need something else? More magazines? Or something other...uh...aid?”
“No thank you. While the magazined certainly served their purpose, I prefer to rely on imagination more.” Suitably put down, Castiel cast a furtive glance around, eyes landing on the book.
“Fragile Things? Really?” he finally asked.
“What's wrong with it?” Dean was on the defensive within seconds.
“Nothing, I just preferred American Gods that's all. Some of Fragile Things is quite...hard to follow.”
“Tell me about it. My Life? Seriously fucked up. Not a lick of sense in that.”
“On the contrary. It makes perfect sense if you read it right.” Dean blinked at the man standing opposite him.
“Is that so?” he tried to collect himself. “So what else you read?”
“A bit of everything. You?” The answer evaded anything specific.
“Same. Bit of this, bit of that.” Dean nodded. Then frowned. “Actually that's a lie. Vonnegut. I like him. Cat's Cradle and Slaughterhouse 5 are good. But I refuse to read anything by Stephen King. Good ideas, terrible style.”
“I know.” came the succinct answer. “Asimov?”
Dean looked at Cas. He looked for all the world like he was talking about the most mundane topic on earth. Always encouraging when in conversation about something you don't find boring, Dean sarcastically noted to himself. He shook his head in mild disagreement.
“Asimov is all right. But you have to be in the right mood for it. You a bookworm?” Dean made the smooth transition from chatty sales assistant so hostile judgemental freak in one fell swoop.
“No. I much prefer theses.” the calm reply surprised Dean. Normally at this point people would have walked out. Seems like normal didn't quite apply to Cas.
“That so? What kinds of stuff then?”
“The paper by Thomas Nagel on the Absurd was quite fascinating if it does push you to consider existential depression. And Camus in general is quite amusing.”
The blank look from Dean elicited a small twitch of Cas' lips.
“And in plain English that would be?”
“Philosophy. Perhaps with a bit of psychology mixed in.”
“Riiight.”
“You not fed properly?” Dean's eyebrows rose higher.
“I beg your pardon?”
Castiel nodded towards the split tube of chocolate body paint.
“Either you must be starving to start eating your stock. Or have a really sweet tooth.”
Dean blinked dumbly as Castiel's hand darted out to scoop a bit of the goo onto his finger. Lapping at it first before sticking the whole finger into his mouth sucking with a slight furrow of concentration on his brow. Pulling the finger out, he scrunched his face up in disgust.
“You must be really desperate.” he concluded.
“Obviously.” Dean watched the odd man in front of him. Odd, yet fascinating. If Dean were the type of man to struggle between what his heart and mind told him, now would have been the time of an epic internal struggle. But alas, Dean liked to think that he didn't have a heart. At least not one made for causing him any trouble, so he jumped over the hurdle of inner debate and spoke on a whim.
“I have a day off tomorrow.”
“Good for you.” the bemused part smile was back. Dean wished to smack his head repeatedly on his counter. That possibly may have come out as one of his lamest statements of idiocy ever in the history of humanity. And Dean had already set and broken quite a few of his own records there.
“What I meant was, if you wanted to...” at this point Dean was distracted by the finger swirling into the spilt syrup on the counter.
“I finish at two tomorrow.” his suffering was cut short with a brief smile.
“So I was wondering whether you'd want to...” Dean lost steam again.
“I'd love to. How about meeting by the fountain at quarter past two?”
Dean nodded mutely.
“That would be great.” he managed to croak out as a chocolate coated finger danced across the glass top.
“There's a small coffee shop just round the corner from there. We could go there.” Castiel finished whatever he was drawing on the counter and surreptitiously wiped his finger on his coat.
“Sure.” Dean, feeling utterly lost that he was no longer really doing the inviting and the hard work had lost most of his vocabulary somewhere in his vacant mind.
“So see you tomorrow Dean.” Castiel flashed a shy smile back at him as he left.
“Yeah. See you.” Dean stared blankly ahead of him trying to comprehend what just happened. Fuck, Ellen was going to kill him. One of the few rules that she had drummed into him was that no matter what the situation, you never ever start seeing a customer outside of work. No matter how alluring they are. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts - Ellen need never know, right? And technically he hadn't actually bought anything today, so not a customer...so he wasn't doing anything against Ellen's wishes, was he? - he moved to clear up the mess on the glass top. He paused however as he looked at what the pattern actually was.
The smooth bastard had left his telephone number scribbled in chocolate body paint over the glass counter in a messy scrawl. Damn.
04: Un-date
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