a.n.
This was inspired by the scene in 6.10 'Caged Heat' where Castiel was watching porn.
What Not to Watch
They were driving. Well, Dean was driving while Sam sat in the passenger's seat, fiddling with his cell phone - probably playing Tetris; Dean knew they should never have bought him one of those iPhones - and Cas sat in the backseat, an expression of utmost boredom on his face - at least, that was the expression he plastered on every time Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, but the eldest Winchester was fairly certain that his angelic friend was happy to have been included in this job.
They were driving through the downtown section of some small town. Small was a relative term, of course: it wasn't nearly as hick as some of the places they'd visited on the job, but this city had a remarkably low population for a college town. Dean wasn't even sure what they were doing there - something about a creepy-ass art exhibit on campus that stole souls from unsuspecting undergrads - but Bobby had called them and when Bobby called, you usually listened.
The car was quiet. Too quiet. Dean tapped a beat onto the steering wheel of his beloved Impala as they pulled up to a red light, earning a scathing look from Sam (which pretty much proved the Tetris theory). Dean stopped his impromptu drumming and sighed, looking out at the university-aged students who were crossing in front of them.
"Look, Cas," he said, pointing out the front window at a girl who was walking with quick, purposeful strides to the other side of the street. "Her coat's kind of like yours." And it was; the same beige-type colour, approximately the same length. Cas leaned forward, his head tilted to one side as he gazed at the girl appraisingly.
"Yes," the angel growled. "That coat was a good choice for her; it flatters her figure very well." Dean blinked. "The way it pulls in at the smallest part of her torso and glides over the rest of it... that is a very cleverly designed coat."
Sam burst into laughter. The light turned, but Dean sat motionless, staring at the angel as though his skin had suddenly begun to sparkle. "What the FUCK, Cas?"
Cas started and looked at Dean, confusion written all over his face. "What seems to be the problem, Dean?" Sam laughed even harder, tears of mirth pooling at the corners of his eyes. Dean turned his gaze onto his brother.
"Sammy," Dean growled. "Have you been letting Cas watch 'What Not to Wear'?"
The car behind them honked, long and loud. Dean jumped and slammed his foot onto the accelerator, not even caring about the squealing noise his baby made as they sped through the intersection. He was trying to keep his cool, but his mind was reeling in horror, Sam was now full-out crying, and Cas was regarding Dean with a look of clinical detachment, as though he were about to -
Oh God, no.
"You know, Dean," Cas said thoughtfully. "Clinton would not approve of that jacket." Dean choked and nearly swerved off the road.
"Excuse me?" he gasped, his eyes wide.
"It's getting very old and worn, and it does nothing for your figure. You have an exceptional body, Dean, and it is being hidden - eclipsed, even - by that old thing."
Sam had dropped his phone and leaned over to put his head between his knees. His shoulders shook, but no sound came out. Dean swallowed and reached for a cassette, struggling to pop open the case and slam it into the tape deck one-handed.
"You know, Cas," Dean stuttered as the tape loaded itself in the player. "I think I preferred it when you were watching porn."
ACDC blasted through the speakers.