I Scream From Ice Cream
A/N: Ahhh, so this basically my first attempt at a fic that is strictly humor, so I hope it's not too awful. Anyways, you know the drill: I don't own Supernatural.
Dean Winchester stared at the window sulkily, elbows digging into the cheap plastic table. Hail plundered into the sidewalk as lightning slashed through the murky sky. If the Impala hadn't been parked two miles away due to three slashed tires-Dean was still rigorously plotting the perpetrator's demise-then he wouldn't be stuck in a damn ice cream shop with a moody little brother and an over curious angel.
Maybe, if he stared into the stormy weather murderously,for a long enough time, it would die. Yes, die. Because anything causing Dean to be stuck in a disgustingly cheery ice cream parlor deserved to die, animate or not. And maybe, just maybe, if he focused on anything but the nerd boy wonder of frozen dairy behind the counter, he could survive the day without a headache from bashing his skull against a wall.
Dean cleared his throat, glancing over at his brother who sat in the corner of the room, looking through a severely damp newspaper, "Sam?"
Sam reluctantly glanced up at him, careful not to rip the soggy paper as he turned the page, "What."
Okay. So maybe Sam wasn't in a bitchy mood for no reason. Maybe Dean had talked to him like a five-year-old not ten minutes ago. But Dean was trapped in Herbert's Sherbet for God's sake. He couldn't be held responsible for his actions. Right? Right.
"You mind telling me again why you brought us here?" Dean asked, trying to keep the patronizing tone out of his voice. He thought he had nailed it, and even flashed a smug smile of his own approval.
But Sam's curled lip and narrowed eyes proved otherwise.
"Sam." Dean sighed exasperatedly, rocking on the back legs of his chair. He was getting a little too old to deal with Sam's bitch fits.
His brother's eyebrows furrowed, and he sat up a little taller, "Look, I already told you. Bobby said he got a call about strange noises-"
"Strange noises?" Dean raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
"Yes," Sam replied tersely, "And since we were only a town away, I figured we might as well check out the place especially when Herbert's Sherbet-"
Dean groaned miserably, "Please don't say that name."
"I don't understand," Castiel appeared between the two of them, "The small, wheezing boy said Herbert's Sherbet lacked any amount of sherbet, having only ice cream and a single flavor of gelato."
"That's suspicious," Dean grumbled sarcastically.
Castiel cocked his head at the hunter, "Should we pursue the idea of interrogation?"
"No!" Sam exclaimed, accidentally ripping his newspaper to shreds, "It's just a name, Cas. It rhymes. It's clever."
"Clever my ass," Dean chuckled heartedly.
Castiel looked utterly confused, "Dean, how can your a-"
"Cas!" Sam interrupted quickly, flushing slightly when he saw the ice cream server stare at them with wide-eyes.
"Right," Castiel nodded his head, "The case."
"There is no case," Dean responded gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest, "Just some strange noises. You realize the kid's asthmatic, right, Sam? Mystery solved."
Sam glared in return. Dean smiled back.
"Dean-"
"Okay, you're right. Probably not the kid. But it's an ice cream shop. There's gonna be sounds, Sam."
"However, Sam might be right. Something is keeping me here," Castiel said, his eyes glancing across the ceiling.
Ah, yes. The reason they were still in the ice cream parlor was because they were literally trapped. Cas couldn't teleport or whatever it was he did. So until this storm stopped or they figured out what killed Cas' mojo, they were stuck in this hell hole.
Dean watched Cas critically. If the angel was being kept here because of some philosophical crap instead of an actual reason, Dean had promised himself that he would pluck every feather off his wings and start a dream catcher business.
"Any ideas?" Dean asked.
"No."
Sam shook his head, frowning slightly.
"Well, that's just awesome." Dean decided, his chair dropping back onto the orange and turquoise tile.
"Um...are you guys going to order something?"
The three of them glanced up at the ice cream boy who was anxiously twirling his ice cream scooper in his trembling hand. He smiled awkwardly when they continued to stare.
"Perhaps he is a monster," Castiel suggested, squinting his eyes in the boy's direction.
"Why?" Sam asked, following the angel's gaze, wondering if he was missing something only Cas had noticed.
"I read somewhere that red-headed humans don't have souls," Cas explained softly.
Sam and Dean exchanged looks, but before they could respond to their companion, the angel was standing at the counter, looking down at all the ice cream flavors, his hands pressed against the cold glass.
"Well. I guess ice cream it is, Sammy," Dean smiled crookedly as he rose from his seat and towards Castiel with Sam in pursuit.
"I don't understand," Cas said, glancing up at the boy, "If you are an assassin, why are you informing your prey?"
"Um..." the server bit his blistered lip, "Pardon?" he squeaked out.
"This," Cas pointed to one of the ice cream labels, "'Death by Chocolate.' Why are you telling your customers about the poison that will murder them? This logic is confusing to me."
The kid was sweating then, red hair curling into his greasy, freckled skin. "Uh...Sir?"
Castiel narrowed his eyes, nodding to himself. Yes, this kid definitely was suspicious.
"There has been a report of strange noises here," Castiel informed gruffly, "Do you keep your meals in the back room?"
"I...what?" the boy's voice was shaky. He must have been worried that Cas knew his true identity.
"I'm talking about the human bodies you feed on. Are they in the back office?" Castiel growled.
The server's skin went ghost pale. Definitely a supernatural creature. The angel's hand reached down into the pocket of his trench coat, gripping the hilt of his dagger, and-
"Ha, he's just kidding!" Dean's hand slapped down on Cas' shoulder hard, a big cheesy smile plastered on his face.
Sam slowly stepped up to the side of Castiel, subtly pulling the angel's fingers away from the dagger.
"Leave my pocket alone, Sam," Cas muttered, annoyed, but he reluctantly loosened his grip.
Sam forced a nervous smile.
The kid finally laughed, relief flushing his features.
Cas lifted his chin to the side, perplexed by the odd and strangely irritating sound coming from the boy's mouth. "Are you not a creature of the night?"
"He means party animal," Dean added energetically, "We're the police," he flashed the kid a badge while never releasing Cas' shoulder. "And we've been investigating a string of late parties that have caused some complaints."
"Oh..." the kid nodded, seeming to understand.
Well that was easy, Dean thought happily.
"Well, are you?" Sam persisted.
The boy shook his head, "No, Sir. Never."
"Let's keep it that way, 'kay, Gingey?" Dean smiled, finally letting go of Castiel, so that he could retrieve his wallet. "Now. How about that ice cream?"
Now, it sure wasn't pie, but the ice cream was pretty damn good. And when Dean had ordered Sam the Butterfly Nectar Sundae, Sam's face equalled priceless. And Cas had felt the need to try the 'Death by Chocolate', still concerned about the nerd boy's motives.
Castiel stared down at his cone, speculatively, "Perhaps I am immune," he pondered, taking another bite of the frozen treat, not feeling the least bit ill.
"Everyone is, Cas," Dean rolled his eyes, searching his bowl for another graham cracker chunk-the closest thing Herbert's Sherbet had to pie crust.
"It must be a faulty recipe," Castiel concluded.
"Yeah, sure," Dean replied absently, kicking his feet onto the table, "How's the butterfly nectar, Sammy?"
"Screw you, Dean," Sam glared.
Dean's smile broadened, "I have to know, Sam. What is the secret to the butterfly's glorious nectar?"
"Purple colored honey."
Dean nearly choked on his vanilla ice cream as he suddenly sat up and swallowed. He cleared his throat, trying to stifle the chuckle that was bubbling in his chest, "You don't say?"
"Just shut up, Dean."
"Can't. We still got a case, princess," Dean replied tossing his plastic cup and spoon into the nearest trash can, "And while it's still hailing, we might as well figure it out now."
Castiel crunched down on his sugar cone and chewed thoughtfully, "I think I might know the issue."
"And?" Sam urged, leaning in towards the table before shoving off Dean's muddy boots.
"And...my vessel lacks the enzyme lactase," Cas throws the rest of his cone into his mouth.
"English, please," Dean muttered, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.
"Jimmy...he's well, severely lactose intolerant. He...he wanted to try now that I can safeguard the vessel from the unfortunate effects," Cas confessed, looking down at his clasped hands.
Dean's jaw dropped, "So basically we've been stuck in this ice cream parlor from hell for hours because your vessel wanted to have a taste of a freaking dairy product?"
"Precisely," Castiel nodded curtly, his lip curving in a slight smile.
"Son of a bitch."