Are We There Yet?
Title: Are We There Yet?
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: G, spoilers for 5.10
Characters: Castiel, Jo, Ellen
Word Count: 880
Disclaimer: I disclaim it!
Summary: Missing bits from 5.10 that I was pondering over.
Jo had been under the impression that it was time to head out and hit the road ten minutes ago. She’d thrown her stuff in the back of the truck, gotten in the passenger seat and waited. Of course no one was ever actually ready to go when they said they would be. She watched the angel approach the car in the side view mirror, his beige coat breezing out behind him. He stopped outside the vehicle and narrowed his eyes at the door as though perplexed by it. Suddenly he was sitting in the backseat, door untouched. Jo smirked to herself.
“So you’re not going to just angel yourself to Carthage then?”
“I would prefer to… preserve my energy,” said Castiel, staring straight forward through the windshield, watching the Winchesters peeling out in the Impala. Ellen was talking to Bobby about something before they left, so it was just Jo and Castiel in the car.
Castiel shifted in the backseat, not saying anything, which was just as well. Jo was still a little groggy and hungover from the night before, and wasn’t feeling very talkative.
“Would you like to inform me of how wonderful music is?” Castiel asked suddenly. Jo looked back and noticed that his trench coat was bunched beneath him uncomfortably, and he kept trying to adjust how he was sitting on it, pulling it so it would lay flat beneath his legs.
“Not really. Why?”
“Dean would often discuss music while driving,” Castiel explained. “It seemed possible this was customary.”
“You’ve been in the car before then? You don’t just flit around?”
Castiel tilted his head almost imperceptibly. Jo watched him in the rearview mirror as he continued to look straight ahead through the windshield. “I would just “flit…around’,” Castiel tested out the phrase, “however Dean has voiced objections concerning his bowel movements.”
Dean’s… his what? Jo wasn’t sure what the last thing she had expected Castiel to say was, but it was likely that was in the top ten. When Jo didn’t know how to respond, the car fell into an awkward silence.
Several miles down the road Jo’s eyelids were drooping lazily, being tempted to sleep by the rumbling vibrations of the car. Her cheek was resting against the strap of her seatbelt, as she watched her mom drive, while some talk radio show droned on about homemade waffles and the show host’s particular opinions and experiences with them. Ellen was clearly much more focused on driving than on the waffle discussion, and was too preoccupied by the apocalypse. They were all preoccupied by the apocoalypse.
The background noise the radio provided was inane, and Jo thought her mother was about to switch it off when Castiel’s gruff voice asked, “have you had waffles before?”
Jo wasn’t sure who he was asking, but she supposed it was both of them. “Yeah, I think most people have. Or they’ve had frozen waffles at least.”
“I think I would like to try waffles,” said Castiel thoughtfully. “The people in the radio make them seem appealing.” Castiel was sitting so stiffly in the backseat that Jo felt her lower back cramp up just looking at him. “I do not know, however, what sort of toppings I would most prefer. The radio people have discussed many fruits.”
Jo exchanged a glace with her mom, smirking. Last night they had tried to get a disobedient angel drunk, but only succeeded in making him depressed, and now she was on an apocalyptic road trip having small talk with him about breakfast foods.
“I think I prefer strawberries,” said Jo. “Strawberries and whipped cream, but put butter on too. No reason to make them healthy in the apocalypse, and the butter will taste good.”
Castiel looked at the side of her head and seemed like he was considering smiling, but he didn’t. “Strawberries. I will remember that,” he said.
The closer to Carthage they got, the worse the radio reception was. Rain was pattering down on the roof of the truck now, making everything sound like it echoed. With the radio off, Castiel didn’t have any cues to speak, so instead he pointed out the obvious. “This form of travel is very tedious.”
The windshield wipers swiped back and forth at their highest speed, trying desperately to keep up with the big droplets of water covering the glass.
“Yeah? Well, you don’t have to hang out back there the whole time, right?” Ellen observed. “You can always fly off and meet us in Carthage.”
“It would seem like a tactical advantage if I were to arrive at the same time as you and the Winchesters,” said Castiel. “Also, as I have said to your daughter, I would like to preserve my energy.”
“I suppose it’s a good idea to be your strongest for Lucifer, if we do run into him,” said Jo.
“I think I understand boredom now,” said Castiel, somehow making that deep, serious voice of his sound wistful. “Are we there yet?”
Jo and Ellen both laughed, and Castiel frowned. “I was serious,” said Castiel. “This vehicle is very slow.”
Jo turned in her seat to look back at him and smiled a smile far too big, considering their impending doom. “I’ll call Dean and see if they want to stop for snacks.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: G, spoilers for 5.10
Characters: Castiel, Jo, Ellen
Word Count: 880
Disclaimer: I disclaim it!
Summary: Missing bits from 5.10 that I was pondering over.
Jo had been under the impression that it was time to head out and hit the road ten minutes ago. She’d thrown her stuff in the back of the truck, gotten in the passenger seat and waited. Of course no one was ever actually ready to go when they said they would be. She watched the angel approach the car in the side view mirror, his beige coat breezing out behind him. He stopped outside the vehicle and narrowed his eyes at the door as though perplexed by it. Suddenly he was sitting in the backseat, door untouched. Jo smirked to herself.
“So you’re not going to just angel yourself to Carthage then?”
“I would prefer to… preserve my energy,” said Castiel, staring straight forward through the windshield, watching the Winchesters peeling out in the Impala. Ellen was talking to Bobby about something before they left, so it was just Jo and Castiel in the car.
Castiel shifted in the backseat, not saying anything, which was just as well. Jo was still a little groggy and hungover from the night before, and wasn’t feeling very talkative.
“Would you like to inform me of how wonderful music is?” Castiel asked suddenly. Jo looked back and noticed that his trench coat was bunched beneath him uncomfortably, and he kept trying to adjust how he was sitting on it, pulling it so it would lay flat beneath his legs.
“Not really. Why?”
“Dean would often discuss music while driving,” Castiel explained. “It seemed possible this was customary.”
“You’ve been in the car before then? You don’t just flit around?”
Castiel tilted his head almost imperceptibly. Jo watched him in the rearview mirror as he continued to look straight ahead through the windshield. “I would just “flit…around’,” Castiel tested out the phrase, “however Dean has voiced objections concerning his bowel movements.”
Dean’s… his what? Jo wasn’t sure what the last thing she had expected Castiel to say was, but it was likely that was in the top ten. When Jo didn’t know how to respond, the car fell into an awkward silence.
Several miles down the road Jo’s eyelids were drooping lazily, being tempted to sleep by the rumbling vibrations of the car. Her cheek was resting against the strap of her seatbelt, as she watched her mom drive, while some talk radio show droned on about homemade waffles and the show host’s particular opinions and experiences with them. Ellen was clearly much more focused on driving than on the waffle discussion, and was too preoccupied by the apocalypse. They were all preoccupied by the apocoalypse.
The background noise the radio provided was inane, and Jo thought her mother was about to switch it off when Castiel’s gruff voice asked, “have you had waffles before?”
Jo wasn’t sure who he was asking, but she supposed it was both of them. “Yeah, I think most people have. Or they’ve had frozen waffles at least.”
“I think I would like to try waffles,” said Castiel thoughtfully. “The people in the radio make them seem appealing.” Castiel was sitting so stiffly in the backseat that Jo felt her lower back cramp up just looking at him. “I do not know, however, what sort of toppings I would most prefer. The radio people have discussed many fruits.”
Jo exchanged a glace with her mom, smirking. Last night they had tried to get a disobedient angel drunk, but only succeeded in making him depressed, and now she was on an apocalyptic road trip having small talk with him about breakfast foods.
“I think I prefer strawberries,” said Jo. “Strawberries and whipped cream, but put butter on too. No reason to make them healthy in the apocalypse, and the butter will taste good.”
Castiel looked at the side of her head and seemed like he was considering smiling, but he didn’t. “Strawberries. I will remember that,” he said.
The closer to Carthage they got, the worse the radio reception was. Rain was pattering down on the roof of the truck now, making everything sound like it echoed. With the radio off, Castiel didn’t have any cues to speak, so instead he pointed out the obvious. “This form of travel is very tedious.”
The windshield wipers swiped back and forth at their highest speed, trying desperately to keep up with the big droplets of water covering the glass.
“Yeah? Well, you don’t have to hang out back there the whole time, right?” Ellen observed. “You can always fly off and meet us in Carthage.”
“It would seem like a tactical advantage if I were to arrive at the same time as you and the Winchesters,” said Castiel. “Also, as I have said to your daughter, I would like to preserve my energy.”
“I suppose it’s a good idea to be your strongest for Lucifer, if we do run into him,” said Jo.
“I think I understand boredom now,” said Castiel, somehow making that deep, serious voice of his sound wistful. “Are we there yet?”
Jo and Ellen both laughed, and Castiel frowned. “I was serious,” said Castiel. “This vehicle is very slow.”
Jo turned in her seat to look back at him and smiled a smile far too big, considering their impending doom. “I’ll call Dean and see if they want to stop for snacks.”