Summary: Cas discovers Red Bulls. Needless to say, he is a bit more than disappointed to discover that they don't actually give you wings.
(human!Cas, slight fluff)
Just a little one-shot inspired by a vending machine of all things. Yeah. Weird. Hope you guys like it, and don't forget to drop a review if you do. Also, for continuities' sake, Sam is totally fine and they never had to accept help from Gadreel or Ezekiel or whatever the heck is name was.
Prologue: Cas has been quiet lately. Withdrawn. They all know why: losing his wings isn't something that Cas can just bounce back from. Maybe- maybe he'll need a little help.
RED BULL
He set the can down hard, crushing it slightly. It crinkled, leaving indentations where his fingers had been squeezing it.
His fingers tapped of their own accord against the table, an unconscious effort to dispel the electricity running through every part of him. With the other hand he tried to shove his knee down, forcefully keep himself from bouncing it up and down.
He closed his eyes- they were vibrating in his skull, and it was making him feel sick. He blindly reached forward to grab another can when he felt something swat his hand away.
His eyes flew open, pulse skyrocketing as he flinched back.
Dean was standing over him.
"Did you drink all of these?" He waved a hand, staring in mild disgust at the dozen or so cans littering the table, all empty. He picked one up, turning it over in his hand to flick his gaze over the nutrition label before looking back at Cas.
"Do you know how bad these are for you?" He lifted the can slightly for emphasis before tossing it in the garbage bin near the door. He'd noticed these cans lying around the bunker before, but he'd never given it much thought.
Cas shrugged, clenching his hand into a fist to keep from fidgeting. Both his knees were bouncing- he definitely felt different.
But he still didn't have his wings.
Dean picked up the one that Cas was just about to open, moving to dump it down the sink, but Cas shot up from his chair to snatch it from his hand, gripping it tight.
Dean froze, shooting Cas a look. "Cas, you want an energy drink, fine. We got coffee. But those- people have died from drinking too much Red Bull."
Cas scoffed. Well, this was rich, coming from an alcoholic. "People also die from drinking too much liquor, Dean, but neither you nor Sam seem to mind."
"That's- that's different."
"No," Cas shook his head, "It really isn't." He abruptly turned away from Dean to pace up and down the short length of the bunker, twisting around every few steps to look over his shoulder at his back.
Dean rolled his eyes. Great. Now they had an ex-angel on a sugar high. This should be fun. He wished Sam could see this, but he was still off in the library researching. He opened his mouth to say something when Cas suddenly whirled to stand right in front of him. Dean stepped back- Cas had gotten better at personal space issues, but Dean had noticed that when he was particularly distraught he would stand much closer than normal.
Now was one of those times.
"Uh, Cas-?"
Cas was fumbling blindly at his back, a look of intense concentration in his eyes. He grudgingly looked up at Dean, almost like he was reluctant to accept the fact that he needed help.
His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I need help."
Obviously.
Cas spoke a mile a minute, pulse still racing after chugging so many of the energy drinks. "They said they would give me wings. It's all I've been drinking for the past three days and there's nothing. Not a single feather. I mean, it feels different, sure- I started feeling floaty after the 6th one, but not flying floaty, if that makes any sense, so I just don't think it's working. Do you think something's wrong with me? I-"
"Cas, what are you talking about?"
Cas' train of thought came to a screeching halt. He rolled his eyes- Dean seriously regretted teaching him the human gift of sass- before he stepped back to lean against the table in the middle of the room, grabbing the edge in a white-knuckled grip.
"You wouldn't be able to see them anyway, I suppose-"
"Cas," Dean stepped forward, almost not wanting to let himself hope, "Did you- did you find a way to get your grace back?" He maneuvered so he was standing in Cas' line of sight again, trying to get his attention.
Dean was sure that it had been completely used up in Metatron's spell. But- maybe some of it survived.
Cas sighed, shoulders slumping. "Apparently not."
The mood changed like flicking a light switch. Cas looked down- and oh, god, why did Dean feel like he just kicked a puppy? He didn't even do anything.
Cas looked back up at him, blue eyes shimmering a bit too much for Dean's comfort under the fluorescent lights of the bunker. His mouth drew into a thin line- he looked to the side, still fidgeting off the excess energy from Chuck knew how many Red Bulls.
Oh. Shit.
Red Bulls.
Sometimes Dean really wished he could slap himself.
"Cas-"
Cas still didn't meet Dean's eyes. He stubbornly looked to the side, looked down, anywhere but at Dean. He was still fidgeting, fingers drumming a staccato beat against the table- if he still had them, Dean didn't doubt that his wings would be fidgeting and fluttering nervously. But he didn't have them. That was the problem.
"Cas, look at me."
Decades passed as Cas reluctantly, hesitantly looked up at Dean.
"You wanna fly?"
"Yes."
Dean hesitated. This was a terrible idea. The logical voice in his head- the one that sounded a bit like Sam- was telling him to abort mission, to forget about this stupid idea. But the Dean voice was asking why the hell not.
"Let's go," Dean dug the keys to the impala out of his pocket, already a good way to the door before dangling them from his fingers as he waited for Cas to catch up. He looked confused, brow furrowing for a split second before he decided to follow.
"Sam!" Dean shouted as he wrenched the door open, "Me and Cas are going out!"
As soon as Cas was buckled in Dean sped off, tires squealing. Cas lurched forward in his seat, splaying a hand against the door in surprise to steady himself as he flicked a wary gaze over at Dean.
Dean just flicked a sidelong glance at him, a smirk playing at his lips as he turned onto one of the back roads leading away from the bunker.
"Dean?"
"Open your window."
Cas gave him a look, but complied. He was immediately greeted by the torrents of wind slapping his face, stirring his slightly styled hair.
He stared out the window for a moment, eyebrows scrunched in confusion at what exactly he was supposed to be doing. The impala purred underneath them, eating the asphalt. Fields flew past them, and now they were just specks in the distance, and now they were already passed over the horizon, a faint streak of color in their memory. The world outside was a blur of greens and browns and blues.
Slowly, Cas craned his head out the window. The rush of air hit him instantly. It reminded him of flying. The tires of the impala were his wings.
He didn't know how fast they were flying. But they were. Flying without ever having to leave the ground.
Cas cracked a smile for the first time in what felt like years. He stuck his arm out the window, feeling the force of the wind try to drag his hand back. It swept past his fingers, whistling and whooping in his ears, playfully tugging his hair.
This. This felt like flying.
He didn't recognize where they were. They'd been driving the back roads for over an hour, Dean going well over anything that could resemble a speed limit. Cas didn't even know the impala was capable of going this fast, seeing as how it was a relatively old car. But Dean, it seemed, took care of the things he loved.
The scenery gradually changed, untamed stretches of the open road rolling away to reveal the regulated streets and stop signs of a small town. Dean had slowed down dramatically: now Cas felt as though they were practically crawling along with the speed of the straggling traffic leftover after rush hour.
"What-?" Cas' eyebrows scrunched in their classic manner as he glanced around, shooting a look at Dean when he pulled into a parking space in front of a diner.
"It's almost seven," Dean explained, taking the keys out of the ignition. He unbuckled his seat belt, glancing over at Cas when he saw that he had made no move to do the same.
"You're probably just as sick of take out as I am."
Cas had to agree: he'd never had to worry about it before. Now, as a human, he'd learned to appreciate little gestures like this.
They walked inside, the little bell on the door ringing to announce their entrance. Dean went to one of the booths near the window, and Cas slid into the seat opposite him, glancing past the painted lettering on the window outside. The sun outside was setting, the little rays of sunshine dancing through to highlight the tips of Dean's dirty-blonde hair.
There weren't many people in the diner at this time of day. The sun was throwing all of it's efforts into the dying light show, it's swan song before the night came to smother the radiance of day.
Dean was halfway through asking what he was going to order when Cas looked at him with a curious smile on his face, one that was almost too shy to appear. Dean stopped mid-sentence.
"What?"
"Thank you, Dean."
Dean rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth flipped up the tiniest bit.
Cas was back to his usual silence. Dean was a bit worried- he'd actually believed that this whole venture would help him work through whatever was going on in that mind of his. Maybe not.
The sun had already set. The sky was a dark muted blue, with the inkling of stars beginning to push through. The diner was far behind them
"Dean, can you pull over?" Cas spoke quietly, but his words were urgent. Dean silently cursed, noting the slightly greenish hue that Cas' face had taken. He veered onto the shoulder of the road, and the car hadn't even stopped before Cas was throwing the door open. He stumbled out, legs almost tangling up to trip him, but thankfully he made it a few feet from the car before
Dean jumped out, not bothering to turn the car off. The headlights shone into the forest sloping sharply down from the shoulder of the road, casting a dim light on the figure currently heaving into the bushes.
"Dammit, Cas, why didn't you say something sooner?"
Cas' only response was to retch again. Dean got a water bottle from the trunk and walked over to hand it to him. He took it gratefully, taking a swig before spitting it out on the ground. He moved to stand next to Dean, leaning against the impala.
"Probably all those damn Red Bulls." That, mixed with a few hours of reckless driving on windy, bumpy back roads. "You good?"
Cas nodded. "Thank you," he said softly.
"Yeah."
"No, I mean-" Cas shuffled, twisting the cap of the water bottle open and closed, "Thank you," he said more earnestly, eyes flicking searchingly into Dean's.
Dean smiled. He let some time pass, just them and the impala and the dusky view of the valley below. He supposed they were both reluctant to go back to the bunker, neither of them wanting this to end.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean."
"Red Bull doesn't actually give you wings."
Cas nodded. He'd suspected as much. That would have been much too simple.
"I've been looking at this wrong," Cas said, "I don't need wings to feel whole."
Dean smirked before quickly schooling his expression, leveling Cas with a pointed look.
"So no more Red Bulls?"
"No," he twined his fingers in his lap, looking down as he smiled, just for a moment- but it was enough to make everything right again.
"No," he continued, "I think I've learned my lesson."
"Dean!" Sam came rushing up to them with a huge doofus smile on his face. He wrapped Dean in a bear hug, patting Cas on the shoulder affectionately. They both shared a look.
Sam raised an eyebrow at their ruffled hair, the way their eyes shone with renewed vigor.
"So?" Sam shrugged, gesturing at them as he led the way down the stairs, "where did you guys go? You weren't gone long enough for a movie-"
"Sam-" Dean held up a hand to stop the barrage of questions.
"I just took him for a drive in the impala. We got dinner, I didn't know what you'd want so I just got you a salad-"
"But," Sam interrupted, eyeing the bag that Dean offered him, "I thought you said you two were going out?"
Dean gave Sam a look before realizing the misunderstanding. The blatant, obvious misunderstanding, because that's exactly what it was.
"Sam-", Dean put a hand to his face in feign annoyance. In reality, he was trying to cover the blush creeping onto his cheeks. Cas, as usual, was completely oblivious.
"I-," he paused, frowning. Was he missing something here? "We did go out, Dean."
"No, Cas. There is a difference between going out and going out."
Cas opened his mouth and closed it again, eyebrows scrunching as he tried to discern what exactly was the difference between going out and going out. Intonation, perhaps?
"Dean, I don't understand-"
Dean spread his arms, dropping them helplessly at his sides. "Sam, you wanna explain-" he turned to see Sam sneaking out of the room, salad in tow.
"Sam!" Dean growled. Cas watched, equal parts amused and bemused as he watched Sam duck out of the room before his brother could tackle him, snickering all the way. Dean chased after him.
Things were finally back to normal. And while Cas still had a lot to learn about being human, he had the best two examples to teach him.
The two examples who were currently fighting like the brothers they were in the next room. He should probably get them to stop before they broke something. Now, he couldn't seem to care: everything was normal. He stiffened when he heard a crash- he could hear Dean shouting, and Sam was laughing at how flustered Dean was after his seemingly innocent observation.
Chaos was their normal.
Kind of a weird ending, i know, but I hope you guys like it. I thought it was a cute idea, and if any of you guys want to make your own ficlets with it, I'd be happy to read them and see what you do with the prompt.