Set around season 4-5, when Castiel has just begun to become familiar with the Winchesters and their ways with words.
" Hey Cas."
Castiel frowned and looked down at the hunter greeting his arrival, who was currently sitting on the edge of his motel bed, beer in hand. He did not approve of the hunter butchering around his name; after all, it was given by his father, and he was fairly proud of it. He surely didn't go around calling Dean 'De'. The issue should be sorted out before it stuck.
" I do not approve of you calling me that, Dean."
" What? You want me to call you Sir or something? "
" No, I would prefer you call me my proper name, Castiel."
Dean looked at the angel as if he had just got baptized in motor oil and was to be called Optimus Prime. In other words, Not Happening.
" Dude, your name's too long. And it's... too- "
Castiel tilted his head slightly, waiting for the word to drop. Dean scratched his head and knitted his brows in frustration, and blurted out an answer.
" Angel-ly? "
It was these moments Castiel found humans to be very complex beings indeed. Such dexterity and wit on one side of the spectrum, and on the other side was... this. God given words would not explain how frustrating this confusion was.
" You are stating the obvious. I am an angel of the lord, the character of my name follows."
" Yeah, but still. It's weird. Hey, Castiel. Personal space, Castiel. Damn it Castiel, don't follow me into the shower!"
" I apologize for that event. I did not know bodily cleaning was considered a private act."
Dean stuck out his tongue and shuddered. Ugh, he was just about to start a bit of self-loving when the angel, in his smelly trench coat of the Lord and shoes to natch, had stepped in on him. Castiel was shot smack in the face by a full blast of lukewarm motel water before he had a chance to speak. So not happening again. Man, whoever named the Victoria's Secret top models 'Angels' would be better off reconsidering. Not that he would mind having one of those angels inside his shower. Mm...
Dean was dozing in a fantasy of velvet and lace and plenty of scantly clad skin when the angel snapped him back to earth.
" We have diverted from the topic on hand, Dean."
Oh, no cute chicks. It was just him and this winged rock of a man. Dean sighed at all the general suckiness of the particular situation.
" Yeah, because we finished talking about it and are moving on. I'm not calling you Castiel, dude. It's gay."
Castiel had now finally begun to grasp that when the hunter used the word "gay", it did not mean "having or showing a merry, lively mood" but more often "homosexual", and sometimes not even that- it was used to indicate that the subject in question was displeasing to him. He had often used the expression as a conclusion for verbal conflicts, along as an adjective for vampires, moldy mattresses and Sam's hair, the last one being associated with the word very frequently. Castiel shuffled a bit in his seat.
" It could have been less fortunate for me."
" Huh? "
Castiel gave a long, distant gaze. Dean stared.
" I had a brother once. "
" Yeah, and ? "
" He was born under the name- "
Castiel took a deep breath.
" Razziel."
Dean, unfortunately, was in the midst of taking a swig from his bottle- he sputtered his drink all over the bed, and doubly unfortunately, also on the angel's trench coat. The angel gave a mournful face that indicated one of his favorite uncles were dead, and gave a snap of his fingers, cleaning the offending liquid instantly. He continued.
" It was heard that Father thought it was quite... modern. However- Razziel, he thought otherwise. He preferred to be called Abagof, shorthand for... "
Castiel's speech lowered a pitch and hastened a pace;
"'Father-is-a-bag-of-goat-turds'"
After a thought, he carefully added, almost as if giving an excuse:
"Some of our other brothers did, however, continue to address him by his original name. But he became very distressed, and insisted on being called his moniker."
Castiel gave a glance up to the sky, as if he was asking for forgiveness. If the scene could have been photographed, it would have been given global awards for its representation in piety and solemn sincerity. If there was not, of course, a hunter snorting beer out of his nostrils and laughing like a hyena on crack in the background. The offending hunter coughed, hacked and swiped his mouth, and opened it to speak in a strained voice, still dripping with riot.
" So, I guess Castiel's pretty cool, huh? "
" Names do not acquire temperature, Dean."
" I mean it's decent."
" Yes. Indeed. "
The angel gave each word with a firm, slow nod. He had clearly convinced the hunter to call his proper name now, and he could go on his business in peace.
" Yeah, but I'm still not calling you that."
Castiel gave Dean a puzzled look.
" I'm gonna to call you Brother-of-Father-is-a-bag-of-goat-turds. Hey, if I can manage a mouthful of a name as long as yours, I think I'm capable at saying sentences, Brother-of-Father-is-a-bag-of-goat-turds."
The hunter gave a toothy smile like he just won title of Wittiest Man in all Creation of the Universe. Castiel frowned and sighed. Would it be quite so disobedient to his father to push this man back into perdition? Just a moment would do.
" I would prefer 'Cas', Dean. Cas. "
" Yeah? Great. "
The angel sighed yet again. Humans were things hard to understand, complex indeed.
