Being awoken to the sound of trucks roaring outside your home isn't exactly pleasant. But that's what was happening now. Castiel curled up further in his bed and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his pillow tightly against his ear. It was too early for this, the sun was hardly up. He should still be getting an hour of sleep! He groaned and shook his head. Great, now whoever was driving the truck was yelling. There was another car... It was loud, but not a truck.

Instead of just continuing to guess, Castiel finally rolled out of bed, falling on the floor in the form of a human burrito. He wriggled out of his blanket and dragged his feet all the way to the window, squinting outside. Oh yeah, someone was moving in next door, alright. The shop next door, previously a hair salon that just hadn't been working out, apparently got sold. Castiel rubbed sleep out of his eyes and sighed as he headed to take a shower. He wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. Not with that ruckus. A nice hot bath would do him wonders, though. He hadn't slept all night, having forgotten to take his sleep medication, and it showed on his face. Gosh... He'd scare his customers like this. He fished out some underwear and pajamas from his incredibly disheveled wardrobe and tossed them on the bathroom counter, shutting the door behind himself as he started preparing for his day.

He was a florist. Yeah, kinda girly, but he loved flowers. They were beautiful, they smelled nice, the made people happy, and most importantly of all, they kept the bees happy. He had a few orders he had to finish up... Ugh, and he needed to see what was happening next door. He had really ennjoyed the quiet... Maybe it would be a bakery or something, something nice and happy. Yeah... Hopefully.

Hopefully it wouldn't be anything too crazy.

"Son of a- Watch where you're going!" Dean hissed as he jumped back from just nearly being knocked over with a couch. The movers, two men, mumbled apologies and headed in the store. Dean sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. Irritating... Ah but that was probably just because it was so early in the morning. No one should have to be up this early! The city was still asleep, only birds flitting around with the occasional car zooming by. Poor idiots, he thought to himself, up so early in the morning willingly... But he had to be up. They had to start getting the shop ready.

What was the shop? A peek at his arms easily explained. Tattoos and piercings, that was his job. Well, he did tattoos, his brother did piercings. They ran the business together. Weird skill for the family to pass down, but they'd all been heavily inked and full of holes. Dean loved his job, but Sam...

He slowly twisted around when he heard complaining about the weather, the time, the cold, and being hungry. Sam didn't really like his job, not at all. He didn't have a single piercing or one tattoo. He didn't want to get involved at all, but Dean had talked him into it because damn, the boy had a quick and steady hand. Not as much as Dean, but... Well, he needed the help.

"Dean, this is so stupid! Couldn't we have, I don't know, come at a later time? It's five in the morning! I only wake up at five in the morning when I'm going for a run! My sleeping patterns are gonna be al-" Dean gave Sam a look of such despair that his brother shut up immediately. Neither of them wanted to be awake, clearly, but this was the only free time the moving company had for another week. "Why don't you go play with the neighborhood kids, huh Sammy?" Sam gave his brother a look, but sulked away anyways, probably to search for someplace that sold, as Dean called it, rabbit food.

"Good talk!" Dean called, snickering as Sam flipped him the middle finger. He turned back to moving, and for the next half hour, it was mumbles back and forth between him and the other men. He looked rather comical in fact, indigo mohawk and multiple piercing along with a black shirt that boldly in white read, "Surf naked." Probably not exactly inappropriate for his job, but along with three men in grey jumpsuits, clean shaven and stiff, he looked out of place. Who cared. He certainly didn't. He liked the way he dressed! He pouted to himself at the mere thought, memories of disgusted looks and crude comments drifting into his mind. He shook himself out of those thoughts, however, and got back to moving stools into the shop. He couldn't be distracted by that right now. He wasn't supposed to care.