Prompt 2: Parades, Football, and/or Black Friday: What might an angel make of THAT?
Title: The Fine Art of Football
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing; Dean/Cas
Rating: Gen, kinda smooshy and fluffy.
Warnings: Absolutely none.
Word Count: 1068
Castiel sighed looking down at the sleeve of his coat as Dean muscled his way through the crowds toward the concessions stand. The hunter heard a growl from behind him and turned as much as he could with three other men pressed against his shoulder. The angel shot the human a decidedly pissy glare.
"What?" Dean mouthed and Castiel pressed forward parting the group of humans like Moses parting the Red Sea. The angel sniffed at his coat then thrust his arm forward. Dean ducked back before getting a hand to the face.
"That man spilled beer on my clothing."
"It'll dry. Come on, Cas just get in the spirit of things."
The angel sighed again casting a glance around the crowded stands and bleachers. The shuffle and flow of multitudes of people milling around waiting for the spectacle to begin. The angel wasn't even sure what 'football' was but Dean has been ecstatic when their latest case involved a poltergeist at the stadium resulting in free tickets for the hunters. Although Castiel only loosely applied that label to himself, now that he was traveling with the Winchester brothers most of the time.
The angel felt a nudge against his shoulder and turned his attention to his human companion, Dean shoved a paper container and a large plastic cup into Castiel's hands before jerking his chin in the direction of the stairs.
Once they were seated the angel cast a long glance at the hunter. Dean grinned taking a huge gulp of his beer and motioning for Castiel to do the same. Finally he complied snuffling when the beer head tickled his nose. Dean grinned at him.
"Eat your hotdog, Cas."
The angel looked down at the paper container filled to overflowing with a long, pinkish meat-like thing peeking out of either end of a soft bun. The hotdog itself was covered over in a mound of onion bits, mustard and pickle relish, so that only the tips of the dog were visible. With a slight frown Castiel raised the thing to his mouth a took a bite. The crisp crunch of the onions and relish were a sharp contrast to the warm soft flesh and he swallowed convulsively.
Dean hefted an eyebrow shooting him a grin, "Good huh?"
Castiel blinked. "Dean, you do know that the Food and Drug Administration has written guidelines for the minimal amount of rodent feces and crushed insects that allowed in hotdogs and have them still fit for human consumption."
"Well then you're an angel so no problemo…eat up. You'll want to be finished before the kick off."
"What?"
"Kick off…the start of the game."
"Yes," Castiel said reluctantly. "I'm not sure that I understand."
"It's easy, don't worry about it. Look that's your team…see the guys in the red shirts?"
"Yes."
"Okay that's my team. The guys over there in the black shirts. Your team is gonna try and get the ball down to that end of the football field and my team is gonna try and stop 'em."
"I see, and if my team gets the ball down to that end of the field what compensation do they receive?"
"Huh? Oh…yeah, they get six points…"
"Why do they only get six, why not ten or twelve?"
"'Cause that's the way it is. If they get the extra point they get seven."
That seemed to placate the angel for a while and they sat there eating quietly. Despite his protestations Cas finished his hotdog and sipped at the beer. Dean was done by the time the first quarter started and felt sated and happy. Glancing over at his companion out of the corner of his eyes he grinned to himself as Cas leaned forward watching the game.
Suddenly a whistle sounded and the angel flinched. Dean grunted and Castiel tapped his arm.
"Why did that man do that?"
"That guy is the ref…erh, the referee he makes sure that the players follow the rules."
"Oh and the player on my team did not abide by the rules?"
"Yeah, see that guy he can't move that way before the ball is snapped erh...passed to the quarterback. Well, he can't do that. So they get a penalty."
"Ah, I understand."
The game continued for a few minutes then Dean felt Castiel go stiff beside him. He quickly glanced around for demons or witches or anything when the angel rose righteous indignation coloring his features.
Castiel stormed to the fence surrounding the field and thrust a hand at the referee, "Liar!"
Dean groaned as the gasp that went up from the crowd closest to their seats. He hurled himself out of his seat as Castiel raised a hand.
"Oh god, oh god oh god…" Dean stumbled through the bleachers praying fervently to a deity he didn't believe in and who probably wouldn't help him out if He even did exist.
"Cas!" Dean gulped, "Come on buddy have a seat."
"That man is unfit for his post."
"I don't follow you."
"He penalized my team for committing an unlawful act but he allowed the players of your team to commit the same act and did nothing. He is a liar, and a cheat."
"It was a bad call…it happens. Calm down okay?"
.
"You would not be saying that if it was a 'bad call' against your team."
Dean flinched but he had to admit the angel had him on that one, dammit.
"Come on Cas, sit down. We'll watch the rest of the game." he tugged and the angel went from righteous indignation to resignation in the blink of an eye. But he allowed Dean to lead him back to their seats and settled down. Castiel shook his arm loosening Dean's grip on his sleeve. The human's fingers slipped down the fabric resting against the warm skin of the angel's hand. Cas wrapped his long slim fingers around Dean's twining their fingers together.
Dean sighed. The crowd turned its attention back to the field and the hunter grinned. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, Dean's team was winning and Cas was a warm solid weight against his shoulder, fingers laced together with his. Things were lookin' up.