This is dedicated to halle mcready... She knows why x x x

Thank my dreams for this one :)

It is one of those vans, where you open up the side of it and serve out of there... Like an ice cream van... Like a burger van even... But I have NO idea what they're called, and Google isn't being much help -glare-

Oh, and this is totally based on Carew Market... Not that anyone knows what/where that is, but hey!

Oh, one final note! I just listed the first movies that came to mind... No one be upset by the choices!

I haven't had this beta'd, and it's nearly 3 am, so I couldn't spot mistakes if they were doing the can can... Apologies in advance (:

"No, sir, really. We paid! Look! The money is right there!" I point, but it is no use. The man's pretty eyes are ablaze with fury. His fists are balled at his sides, and I am a little afraid that he wants to hit me. The look he is holding me with is intense. More than I am used to, or comfortable with. Maybe it's time to run.

Okay.

Let me just give you a run down of the events of the last half hour or so that have led us to this point. Buckle up.

My friend and I were just ambling around this market, checking out the stalls and the rails upon rails of cheap knock off clothing. Our parents had dragged us here so they could go 'prezzie shopping' although what on earth they thought they were going to get in a place like this was beyond myself and Uriel. We spent a good while looking through this insane collection of DVDs and VHS tapes one bloke had, but frankly, most of them were crap, and they looked like they had probably sat in the back of a garage for a decade or so before his wife finally flipped out and told him to get rid of them or she'd burn the sodding lot. Not that I would blame her for that. There were a handful of copies of the various Rocky films on VHS, Robocop, Star Wars, and the rest of them looked like B grade movies made with a hand held camcorder by a bunch of high school students. Suffice to say, we moved on without making any purchases. A large corner of the barn was occupied by everything baby you could imagine; Moses baskets and stands, cots, cot beds, strollers, car seats, prams, high chairs. The next stall along was full of baby blankets, baby clothes, maternity wear. We walked straight past those. Shoes. None nice. Cheap jewelry. Crafts. Accessories for girls – hair brushes, hair pins, cheap, nasty make up, nail varnishes of every color known to man, those plastic looking clip in colored hair strips that girls thought looked good, head bands. I wanted to cry at that point. How the hell were our parents going to find gifts in this dump? Outside was stall upon stall of people unwanted garbage. I'm pretty sure we passed a place that sold static caravans, and another that did something with stones.

My stomach had started to protest to its lack of lunch, so we had set off to the burger van. A burger and a hot dog each later, Uriel and I slouched back in to the hard plastic chairs, hunger sated for the time being.

"What about dessert?"

My jaw dropped. "You fat slag!" I smiled at the 70 something lady who gave me a horrified look as she overheard my affectionate insult.

"I'm not talking a Bruce Bogtrotter cake... Although sans blood and sweat, I wouldn't mind giving that a go one day..." Uriel slipped off in to a daydream.

I hit the table between us.

Uriel jumped.

"Dude?"

"What?"

"You were saying..."

"Oh." His face creased. "I don't remember. Oh. Yeah. Food. Dessert." He wiped his hands on a tissue, then dabbed it over his lips. "I saw a candy van somewhere around, I'm sure. Surely?"

I blinked at him.

He didn't bother waiting for my answer.

I rushed after him, grabbing a handful of the back of his shirt to yank him back towards me. "Wait for me, you gay."

"Who are you calling gay?" Uriel shot me a look that made me laugh. He was so sensitive about sexuality jokes. I, of course, being the fantastic friend that I am, exploited this at any given opportunity.

"Where's this alleged van then, U?"

"It's around here somewhere." He scanned the local area like a cop looking for a suspect, then he appeared to hone in on something. My wrist was grabbed and I was hauled a few more yards until we came to a candy version of a burger van. The choice was extensive, and I found myself just scanning the endless bags, not even having a clue where to begin.

"Twat isn't even there." Uriel grumbled.

"What?" I heard what he said, but my brain was having difficult processing it and translating it in to Castiel for me.

"The what's-he-called? The bloke we pay."

I baulked. The word evaded me too. "Oh." That would do.

Uriel picked up his choice and grinned at it like it was a messiah. "I want these."

I couldn't help but laugh at his childishness, and he swatted me. After a few more minutes of procrastinating the choice painfully, I finally picked out my bag and looked up at the still empty van. "Fuck sake."

"Where is this dick head?"

I shrugged. "Fag break? Having a dump. I don't know."

"Well he's gonna lose himself two customers if he doesn't hurry up." A wicked look crossed Uriel's face, and he swung his head from side to side dramatically, checking his surroundings. "Unless."

For the second time that day, my jaw dropped. "U-ri-ellllll!" I dragged it out, whining like a petulant four year old. "You can't steal."

"Why not? Douche isn't here to be paid; he doesn't deserve to be paid."

"He might be on a pee break, or getting a coffee or, hey, maybe he's had a family emergency. You can't take it without paying!" I won't lie; I was horrified by Uriel's suggestion to steal the candy. It might not have been much, and granted, he was probably charging double what he paid for it, so even two bags down, he'd still be turning a profit, but still. I had had it hammered in to me (not literally) since a young age that stealing was wrong. So much as pinch a cookie from the cookie jar and I would get a hot backside and sent to my room until further notice.

"Well what are we supposed to do then?" Uriel was getting annoyed, and I could see him picking a hole in the bag already.

I shrugged wildly. "I dunno, leave the money somewhere, and a note explaining the circumstances."

It was Uriel's turn to laugh at me. "You are such a teacher's pet."

I frowned. "What do teachers have to do with this situation-" I cut myself off and raised my hands. "Forget it! Just shut up and give me the money."

After a couple more minutes of whining and arguing with each other, Uriel finally, reluctantly handed over the money. "I'm not having any part in this." He groused, and with that, he turned on his heel and stomped away. "I'll see you at the car."

I shook my head at the retreating boy, and unfolded the piece of paper I had pulled out from my trench coat pocket. Apart from being really fucking warm, the trench coat had the most epic pockets, which were big enough to keep a notepad and pen in – two items I seemed to always need. Using the inner floor of the van to lean on, I jotted a note in my neatest hand writing, detailing the candy we had taken and the price of each bag, and that we had left the money to pay for them folded up in the other piece of paper (which I would place on top of the note). That was when the yelling began.

Chapter 1 :) More to come...