A little oneshot I did for Valentine's Day. =)

Title: Rocks
Rated: PG
Warnings: mild profanity, implied sexuality; spoilers for season 5
Pairing: None, though perhaps unrequited Dean/Cas?
Summary: We all know using the term "rock on her finger," we mean a ring. Castiel, however, interprets it quite differently.
Notes: This idea has been sitting in my head for a while and was originally a suggestion for a drawing to my friend, fujisaki-chan at deviantART. I figured I'd roll with it. (HA, I made a funny. Sort of.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Damn!"

Castiel, face a perfect painting of ennui, turned to watch Dean slip into the Impala, door slamming shut. Despite shaking the rain water from his jacket and hair, he was smiling, a soft blush on his freckled cheeks. "You are red," the angel noted, "are you feeling ill?"

Dean blinked and looked at his companion. He then took notice of the heat on his cheeks and laughed. "No," he said and refused to explain it was blushing. That sounded way too girly. Castiel tilted his head in his usual way of asking a question he was too perplexed by to vocalize. "That chick--the dead kid's friend I just spoke to," Dean said and jerked a thumb at the fogged window, to the small house they parked outside. "She is fucking banging." He finished with a soft exhale like blowing out heat.

Castiel stared. "She was not banging anything from my observations."

"S'figure of speech, Cas," Dean said, finding the angel's ignorance almost... cute. "It means you think someone is really smoking hot." They stared shortly. "Beautiful. Sexy. Okay?" Cas's eyes lit up with realization and he nodded silently. "Dictionary definition was that girl right there." With a soft 'ahh,' he shook his head, bemused. "S'too bad she's gettin' married. I would have asked her out."

A boy they suspected of being torn to pieces by a gargoyle was dead and two more were possibly in danger as well. "Dean," Castiel said and that was his form of a lecture.

Dean shrugged. He couldn't help it. "She had this rock, 'bout the size of one of her damn eyes," he said.

"'Rock'?"

"Yeah," the hunter continued as the car started up, heat blasting over them in waves, "I guess the old man was right--'the bigger the rock, the better.'"

Castiel's eyes squinted. "Do you humans commonly give... rocks to the one they adore?"

"Yeah, pretty much and--" Dean realized his partner was lost with his terminology again. But he was chilly, wet and hungry. "I'll explain later," he said and drove the Impala off to the nearest burger joint.

Castiel said nothing in response. He sat quietly, soaking in heat unnecessary to him, but imperative to his human host. It was apparent he was deep in thought, but Dean wasn't going to prod. He simply switched on some Zeppelin and sure enough, Cas was gone a minute into A Whole Lotta Love.

-------

Dean joined up with Sam a half hour later, gullet stuffed with a bacon cheeseburger and curly fries. Of course he had gotten the wrong flavor of dressing for his brother's chicken salad, but they argued with soft spats and eye rolling and went back to their research. About an hour later, Sam had retired to the local library for a history lesson of this supposedly ancient cathedral that had been torn down a week ago--one that hosted "guardian spirit gargoyles."

Dean had done his bit for the day. All that was left was to make a few calls. He showered to get the last remnant of chill out of his body before rolling out on the bed. The second of the two calls he made was to Bobby, who was clear across the states on his own case. However, the older hunter had dug up a book that would come quite handy in their hunt. Only problem was they needed it now, and with Bobby so far away--

"So Cas's got it, right?"

"Yeah. Kelly Garrett there picked it up about," Bobby paused, presumably to check the time, "little over twenty minutes go."

Dean quirked a brow. "He isn't here," he noted.

"Well, he ain't here either."

Castiel was supposed to bring the book back the moment he had his hands on it. It would only take him perhaps five minutes, if not less. So why the Hell wasn't he here now? Dean sat up, giving his shoulders tense rolls. "... When he like... I don't know--beamed--over at your place, did he seem weak? Pale? Bleeding abnormally?"

Dean could practically hear the shocked and weirded out expression on his friend's face. "'Bleeding ab'-wha? No, he looked like his usual blank faced, constipated self. Nothing out of the norm--well, when it comes to him--and no wounds." Bobby paused. "You think he might have run into trouble on the way back?"

"That's the last thing I need right now," Dean grumbled when a sudden lightning crash caused the cheap motel's lights to flicker. He furrowed his brows. "Might just be the storm."

"Well, it's not the first time angels have been rather hard to reach and unhelpful," Bobby emphasized the final word, "but I'm sure he'll be there soon. He's been bashed around good enough that I think he ought to be fine."

That was just it. Demons and fellow angels had fought and nearly destroyed him, but he made it out alive by the skin of his teeth. How could just a little rain, thunder and lightning prove to be more threatening? Unless this storm was unnatural... It was Bobby's voice asking if Dean was still connected that the hunter realized how much of a worried mother he was acting like. "Yeah, yeah, thanks Bobby," he said and the two hung up.

Dean stared at his cell for a moment before ringing up Sam. The usual information exchange commenced before Dean asked, "So is Cas with you?"

"No. Why? You know he's your shoulder angel."

Dean just snorted and refrained from mentioning Sam's old "shoulder demon." He replied, "He didn't drop off the book or anything?"

"No," Sam said, "did he get it?"

Dean was quiet for a second. "Yeah," he retorted, "he's just running a little... late."

"Let's hope it's just that."

The call finished with more theories swapped before Sam said he'd return shortly and Dean fell back on the bed. There came another loud roll of thunder. The bedside lamp flickered off and remained dead. Dean flicked it, not realizing he was twitching, fiddling with objects. Where the Hell was--

There came a loud crash and thud from outside. It definitely wasn't thunder or lightning. And it was close--had to be right outside the room. Dean practically jumped into his shoes and darted outside, yanking his coat and gun from the chair. He kept the weapon concealed, just in case, before unlocking and shoving open the door. Dean had almost expected one of these so called gargoyles to lunge at him, but instead saw something he had never imagined in his wildest fantasies.

There was a gigantic boulder sitting next to his Impala. It had to be at least ten feet in length, and eight in height. The colors of the rock were a chocolate brown, with swirls of blue and purple running stripes around its jagged surface. Dean knew he had seen such rock--silly as it sounded--before, but couldn't pin where. The gravel beneath bent and crumbled under its weight, as if it had been slammed down or abruptly dropped. A second later, Castiel poked around the boulder, managing to stay completely dry despite the drizzle of rain.

Dean was speechless at first. "You are so Goddamn lucky this hotel's pretty much deserted," he snapped and marched over to Cas, continuing to cast weary looks left and right. Castiel seemed unchanged by his suspicion and shock. "What the Hell is this!?" the hunter demanded, flapping a hand at the rock. "And where is the book?"

"The book is safe," Castiel assured and produced aforementioned object from inside his trenchcoat. Dean snatched it up and quickly hid it under his jacket with his gun. "I am sorry I am late. I made a quick detour on my way back," the angel apologized, though nothing in his tone or face looked or sounded apologetic. He gestured to the boulder Dean couldn't stop sizing up. "I made a brief stop at the Grand Canyon, one of your country's landmarks. I retrieved this from the gorge."

Dean's eyes nearly popped from his skull. "F-From the Grand Canyon!?" he squawked. "This!? Why!?"

"I believe you understand my reasoning."

"No." Dean's eyes were hard, tone just as firm. "No I do not understand how your angel brain processes this shit."

Castiel's eyes squinted. "You told me people who are fond of certain people gift them with rocks," he stated, one hand touching the rock, as if suddenly he was insecure with his decision. "You had also specified 'the bigger, the better.'" His head tilted. "I thought you might appreciate this. It is a token of my appreciation and adoration for you, Dean."

Dean gawped. He was literally rendered speechless. No words were forming in his mind or throat. His mouth shut, opened, before his jaw locked together. He was turning red again and Castiel went to voice his concern before Dean just laughed. "C-Cas," he tittered and carefully, apprehensively patted his partner's shoulder, "you... you took it all wrong. It's... it's not like, literally, a rock... Well, it is but..." Dean wet his lips and paused to consider the explanation.

As soon as he fathomed one, he explained the slang behind the 'rock' term and rings. Castiel nodded once or twice, but remained generally confused about why Dean didn't just say 'ring.' "And besides," the hunter chuckled, "you only give rocks--rings, or jewelry, to those you really like."

"For all intents and purposes, I really like you, Dean."

Dean bit his teeth together. "No, Cas," he said and slowly rephrased, "like... reaaaaally like." He let it sink in with silence, but it was apparent his subtle hints were not reaching Castiel. "Love, man! Love like romantically! Sexually!" he exclaimed, hands thrown in the air.

Castiel blinked. "Then my offering still remains."

Now it was Dean's turn to be lost and confused. When it finally settled in, he came to the conclusion that ignorance really is bliss.

END

A/N: Bobby refers to Castiel as Kelly Garrett, one of the Angels from Charlie's Angels.